Here we are, can you believe it, going into September. Where does the time go? I'm still reading Carl Sandburg's big book of Abraham Lincoln. I've no words adequate to do it justice. There is no doubt that the United States would not still exist, our Constitution would not have been preserved, were it not… Continue reading When Half-Gods Go
I am a writer. I think, and believe, that if you are a writer, you were born a writer. William Burroughs once said of Jack Kerouac that Jack Kerouac was the definition of a writer, that is, that he was, one who writes. That is to say, that in some way, in some part, he… Continue reading Writer.
I've kept some kind of a notebook, or journal, since junior high. Thankfully, the majority of them have gone the way of the wind. I suppose that's a nice way of saying that I destroyed them at one time or another. I recall erasing every word one January, in some other life a million years… Continue reading An Unraveled Hem, Joan Didion