Part of what I've learned is that if it isn't life and death, it isn't life and death.
DON’T KNOW WHO I AM, RICH SAYS OVER AND over. There are too many thoughts inside my head. I am not myself. Yesterday he said, Pretend you are walking up the street with your friend. You are looking in...
But we don't get to choose what sticks. How many times I have run my fingers along a picket fence and thought, This! I will remember this moment always! and all that remains is the memory of a desire...
Australian Aborigines slept with their dogs for warmth on cold nights, the coldest being a three dog night. —WIKIPEDIA
A friend's mother ate nothing but clams for six months. Morning, noon, and night, nothing but clams. 'I don't know what it is - I can't seem to get enough of them' she told her son. He shakes his head...
Even when there's no interest on either side one's coordination completely disappears in the presence of beauty (Abigail's daughter, Jen)
The connection with him is a connection with part of myself, and it has to do with a kind of insatiable curiosity. I mean the part of me that gets connected to the rest of me when I’m connecting to hi...
I went and bought Guitar Towns by Steve Earle instead of listening to my better self...After a bit, and despite my new relationship with time, I began to experience impatience. One song at a time was...
I have decided that when I’m dead I’d like my body in the woods under a light coating of leaves. That being against the law, maybe I will go for cremation. I ask Chuck what he wants done with his rema...
Somewhat leaky boat are on the lookout for a human companion. Not me. I have learned to love the inside of my own head. There isn’t much I’d rather say than think. Of course for more than thirty years...
And you have to take gladly what life offers, she has learned that much, and sometimes you get lucky. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? There’s nothing wrong with that.
What can come? my grandson Sam asked, when he was very young, after his mother had warned him not to go into the woods after dark. What can come? This was a brilliant question. Can is scarier than wil...
This would account for those moments of Oh! there you are! After all, there are those people we like and dislike, there are those people we love, and then there are those we recognize. These are the u...
There’s nothing I want to relive—certainly not youth—and as for what’s to come, I’m in no hurry. I watch my dogs. They throw themselves into everything they do; even their sleeping is wholehearted. Th...
The thought that this happened and then this happened and then this and this and this, the relentless march of event and emotion tied together simply because day follows day and turns into week follow...
The past is in the wastebasket.
She would (if she could) put her arm around the girl she'd been and try to tell her Take it easy, but the girl would not have listened. The girl had no receptors for Take it easy. And besides, Hey Jud...
Nothing is wasted when you are a writer. The stuff that doesn’t work has to be written to make way for the stuff that might;
Love Love can accommodate all sorts of misshapen objects: a door held open for a city dog who runs into the woods; fences down; some role you didn’t ask for, didn’t want. Love allows for betrayal and...
Wonderful news, a lovely day, but I don't trust good news and I don't like good weather. Dread has been my faithful companion, and without it I am alone.