"Now I’m riding the underground trolley back in forth in the Atlanta airport. In the most densely populated airport in America I’m the only one around, well except for night-shift workers, but they’re not on the train. I can imagine the kick that the federal security is having watching me walk around this airport like… Continue reading Part one,Ten pages of timeless red Notebook that could be recovered after a Storm
Month: August 2012
For Crying Out Loud Society, Can You Please get your Shit Together. A Rant.
""Yeah, I’m a nice person, so I do. But still, like Rodney Dangerfield said, “no respect”; absolutely no respect for the Post-Post whatever modern writer. Take a bow, because now the news tells me a tornado is blowing in. Grreeaat! And so it goes." For Crying Out Loud Society, Can You Please get your Shit… Continue reading For Crying Out Loud Society, Can You Please get your Shit Together. A Rant.
Unedited Desperation (written over two years ago in Chicago)
(A few weeks ago I was on a bender, dying, losing it. Now life is still a mess, but I've grown, become a better human. Loving. trying. Fighting not to lose goodness. When I wrote this I was angry. My eyes were burning from a war, the life, the constant war I feel I've been in. What… Continue reading Unedited Desperation (written over two years ago in Chicago)
Writing by dead writers, Albert Camus
"And I, too, felt ready to start life all over again. It was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign… Continue reading Writing by dead writers, Albert Camus
Writing by dead writers, Edna St. Vincent Millay
Apostrophe To Man Edna St. Vincent Millay 22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950 (On reflecting that the world is ready to go to war again) Detestable race, continue to expunge yourself, die out. Breed faster, crowd, encroach, sing hymns, build bombing airplanes; Make speeches, unveil statues, issue bonds, parade; Convert again into explosives the… Continue reading Writing by dead writers, Edna St. Vincent Millay