Still a little groggy (not quite done my first cup of coffee) and trying to think about what to write as well as this overall process (and benefit or not) of writing everyday. I’m not doubting the benefit, but I am wondering if writing for the sake of writing gives me a false sense of…
Category: Writing
PRACTICE
Half asleep, she cooked up two eggs and some toast, poured herself a cup of coffee, black no sugar. I was twelve minutes and seventeen seconds (give or take) in to watching a twenty-one minute and thirty-two second (give or take) news clip. That was the type of attention I was paying. She, Anna, an…
THE HUMIDITY OF MORNING
This morning as I opened the sliding glass door to the balcony so I could sit and have coffee and read a few poems, the smell of the humidity in the air reminded me of early mornings at the beach before the heat grew oppressive under the high sun. I had pulled out my volume…
ABOUT LAST NIGHT…
Uggghhhh…. when I’m up late writing a post like the one I wrote last night – part confessional, part longing, part missive, part train wreck – I wake up almost feeling groggy and hung over from the experience. Like who did I drunk dial last night and what did I say…? I usually spend the…
GOOD AND RIGHT
Sometimes, the day just falls in to place. Today was one of those days. Nothing special happened, but the things that happened all felt good and right (mostly). I had a decent breakfast and spent the morning reading and writing. I’ve been trying to finish one of the books of poetry I’ve been reading, but…
CLAMMING
It feels arrogant to consider myself a writer or an artist. At best, I’m a normal dude (though I initially, accidentally typed dud) who happens to write a little and has an appreciation for artistic endeavors. I say this because I’ve spent the morning (after breakfast and reading the news) on the sofa with a…
LEAP DAY
Last night I went out with my friend Katherine and then met up with Stacy. Katherine bought dinner and drinks – apparently she thinks she owed me from last time. We ended up at Ernestine & Hazel’s where she thought a guy was cute. She left early, and then texted and asked me to find…
FAULKNER, PROUST, AND ADVENTURES PRESENT AND REMEMBERED
“It’s a shame that the only thing a man can do for eight hours a day is work. He can’t eat for eight hours; he can’t drink for eight hours; he can’t make love for eight hours. The only thing a man can do for eight hours is work.” “You don’t love because: you love…
PRIVILEGE AND OBSERVATION
It was a little after 2pm in the high-ceilinged cafe. A man walked in, black jeans, black work boots, too many top layers for the unseasonably warm day. He favored his right leg, not quite a limp. His Jacket was that neon yellow-green with wide, silvery reflective stripes, the kind you see worn on airport…
WRITING, THINKING, DETAIL
Just as I’m finishing lunch and getting ready to head to the coffee shop with my pen and the little notebook I picked up somewhere in North Carolina (Winston-Salem, I think), a notebook which gets far less use than my laptop… I came across this small gem on Brain Pickings. It’s an short examination of…
FOR THE SAKE OF HABIT
Rough and tumble storms have been rolling through Memphis this morning. It’s in the mid-sixties, there’s a lot of thunder and lightening. Seems a bit crazy for January. Yesterday I read that an organization in Australia made dire predictions for climate change – basically saying that by 2050, civilization will collapse in to chaos because…