Why The F (Word)
Catcher in the Rye used it five times. If you find an old copy in a second-hand book store, chances are some 12 year old (now 80-ish) underlined every instance. Back then, the f-word was outrageous; shocking; and hidden. And…
Catcher in the Rye used it five times. If you find an old copy in a second-hand book store, chances are some 12 year old (now 80-ish) underlined every instance. Back then, the f-word was outrageous; shocking; and hidden. And…
It is a fact (barring worse-case outcomes in the real estate realm) that this date a year from now, I will not be sitting at this desk in this room at these coordinates on Planet Earth. But someone will be…
So even with my good intentions to breathe life back into the blog, it’s been on life support in ICU for another week, hanging on by a thread (though not of active conversation) and waiting for an injection of adrenalin.…
I am having a spurt of organizational drive this week, and so I’m getting around to doing a better job of books book keeping, of distributing my books beyond Floyd, and getting back in motion not just with existing books…
Back in December, I was offered the opportunity to contribute a “500-700 word article on Southwest Virginia’s outdoors or nature” by the Crooked Road folks. It now appears (on page 23) in the program guide for next week’s Mountains of…
Housekeeping the catacombs of my desk, I found a reflection from early on. It speaks to my hopes for myself, for my readers, for our world. Now, more than 15 years later, some hopes are realized, some will never be.…
A few years back, I was asked to write the introduction as the final work came together for the author and artist who crafted “Keepers of the Tradition.” The intro was granted 1400 words initially, and lives below; the final…
I awoke with a start. I had fallen asleep slumped against my favorite leaning poplar a ten-minute walk from the house. I was most certainly not exactly there now. I had nodded off on a warm summer afternoon, but now…
Not surprisingly, I came to discover that there is no one by that name with a PO box in that small Blue Ridge mountain town whose name and zipcode appeared on the envelope. The namesake of the purported sender was…
Once upon a time, there was a strange farmer of Erehwon. He gathered his curiosities, his precious things–momentary objects that held his attention and delight–and hoped others might wander down his lonesome road and share his fascination with the ordinary.…
For those who don’t see my infrequent posts on the Book of Face, here is a link to the four part series on Forestry’s Future that just completed its run in the Floyd Press. When Forests Disappear / Fred First…
Go to medium.com to see more images for this post. We don’t know what goes on in their minds when they are with us, but only the smiles and memories they leave in our own hearts and memories when they…
Hello all. Or some. It’s been far more quiet here than at any time since the summer of 2002. You might have noticed, or not. Obviously, I don’t put much thought to public writing of late–not for a long time,…
This is part 5 of excerpts from a piece that may someday (or may not) be a chapter in a book, given adequate keystrokes in these out-of-warranty joints; enough minutes of absolute time but especially minutes with adequate clarity and…