An Object at Rest

? On the very positive side of “why this writing space gets no love” of late, as I wrote recently on Substack, the coming of spring and summer has been liberating! The landscape beyond beckons me through the sliding doors,…
? On the very positive side of “why this writing space gets no love” of late, as I wrote recently on Substack, the coming of spring and summer has been liberating! The landscape beyond beckons me through the sliding doors,…
I was watching The Crown yesterday while eating my usual and customary lunch apple. A line from the script grabbed my attention. It was spoken by the frail and apparently dying sister of Admiral Mountbatten as she languished in her…
You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore June 11, 2002 It was just a couple of days before my much-anticipated travels Out West to see our daughter. I was in the bedroom fretting over the details of the trip. Ann called…
Had coffee with a friend recently–a few years my senior–who showed me a picture on his phone. I recognized it as a raven. He said it was a tattoo. His own. He described the recent decision and related experience in…
I posted this morning over at Substack where the friction is less than here in WordPress. You can go there and read my musings about diets and digestion, with more to come about bugs for breakfast in your own bowl…
The three pounds of pink pudding we carry in our cranium has to be the most researched and debated organ in the (known) universe. If you follow the visible tip of the iceberg (the part I post somewhere public) you…
If you don’t know where it is you want to go, you’re not going to know when you get there. After so many years when this website was either neglected by the writer, ignored by readers or sabotaged by hackers…
The blog was on the ropes. Then it was down for the count. The referee intended to stop the fight, the victim too far injured to rise again. But wait! Fragments has struggled to her feet, bloodied, staggering, but headed…
I’m trying to reduce the friction for peripheral writing while attempting to focus on the main train–the completion of additions and editing for Book #3, now in active revision towards publication–in a year, maybe. So if you subscribe to Fragments…
When is the last time you stretched out on your back under a sky full of clouds? Your mind literally cannot help but make sense of the seemingly random balloonings or smears or pulled threads of clouds. It is what…
And even now, there are moments that seem pleasant, hopeful, when I am excited to complete something, to start some new thing. The world feels familiar. Comfortable. Briefly ordinary. But like waking from one dream into another, it washes over…