We shared a table with a Canadian couple the other night, Saturday, waiting for the parade to start. He was already four scotches in and still seemed mighty sober. She was adjusting her scarf, watching out for him, watching out for herself, the plum limit inside her glass falling down slowly. A slightly older couple from Toronto, one of those Train A and Train B type unions leaving lives set far apart only to meet and scream one alongside the other due to speed and time and distance and the merits of divorce. I guess you could say the same for us, only we were looking for an empty seat in a bar full of people waiting for the parade to start. Continue reading ‘Le Bon Temps’
Part 32 of my increasingly incoherent novel from years ago.
I had my first atomic war paranoia dream in 20 years last night. It startled me awake in a cold sweat, but then felt sweetly nostalgic.
Continue reading ‘Atomic Dreams’
The 12,000 words a month project. An exercise in the discipline of writing (putting together a beginning, middle, and end) in the somewhat longer form. My plan is to try and get myself to the point where I am able to sit down on a long project and not meander, or give up, or simply trail off into blathering nonsense.
And here’s all of Season of the Witch, for those folks who hate serialized stuff.
A new chapter. And introducing a storyline I went back and added to flesh things out. But, then, it got to be too much for me and I cried a little bit and then had a Lost in Space marathon. The boy! Take the boy!
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