Tag Archives: blogging

Discreet Music | January 8, 2018

Came home from work and washed my hands, poured the last of the white wine. The January bugs are back, gray and plain, looking in at me sideways. A flock of birds like playing cards shuffled, then rearranged. There must … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Discreet Music | January 7, 2018

The dog’s hind leg shifts like a coal in the wood stove, stirs, then settles in. It’s Sunday and I vowed to cook, read, build a fire and that’s it. Spent half of it online reading consumer reviews of cars … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

Do enough drugs and the trees will talk back

I don’t know why I have to drink beer when I brown beef but I just do. Maybe so I’m doing something other than drinking. I went back to my notes from Friday morning on Cougar Mountain with the dog, … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 26 Comments

Just like the landscape

In the way other people’s minds probably do, mine moved along a band of topics in the middle of the night like radio stations or a wheel at the fair, a big arrow that stops and settles. That’s how it … Continue reading

Posted in musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Spellbound colander of treetops amid bruised cloud aperture

It’s funny, when I think about James Joyce now I wonder how much of his art is judged by what he said vs. how he said it, the fact he freed others to rethink writing: or that his book went … Continue reading

Posted in death, musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

A matter of degrees

Lily’s crying upstairs now but it’s not the cries of a child, it’s the depths of horror, of hormones. She doesn’t seem interested (in an emotional way) in the bedtime ritual, it’s more transactional now—like anything, it doesn’t happen overnight, … Continue reading

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

The darkening afternoon sky

The sound of my kids upstairs in the morning singing, getting ready for school, the same nonsensical sound as birds in spring, makes you wonder why they really sing, if it’s to sooth themselves. I get to fix them toast … Continue reading

Posted in musings, travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 24 Comments