Archive for the ‘Piece of Mind’ Category
As impersonal as it once was, the bio page on this site now offers substantially more background information about me. I revised my personal biography so it now offers a few more details about what led me to become a writer and what I’ve hopefully accomplished along the way (though, I have to say, it is a bit grounding to see so little after contributing so much effort). I tried to fill in a bit more than a standard bio would about my fascination with storytelling begun at an early age and the events and environments that I suspect shaped my creative mind. This is really the first time I’ve published an attempt to tie my writing to specific events – to wonder why aloud for an audience, but I’ve done so in hopes of stumbling upon new subjects to write about.
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Tags: Bio
Kierkegaard wrote that the ability to practice silence is an art and that to be silent is to be nothing, and otherwise perfect before God. How the written word fits into this concept is not directly addressed in his essay, The Lily in the Field and the Bird in the Air, but it can be deducted that any dialogue a person creates, whether spoken or in some other format, is not the quiet that will open a path to God’s kingdom. So I’m wondering if, by his definition, blogging is a deterrent to the after life. My first instinct is to say yes, but why dispassionately agree with a great philosopher? (more…)
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Tags: Philosophy
Toward the party lights and the muffled music that comes clear when a bar door is pushed open, the gathering places are full with warm bodies and cold faces. I walk down the dark sidewalks and at intervals the neon signs hung in bars scorch my face red, the sting as sharp as the cold wind’s burn in the fading night. I am going to count sidewalk cracks and watch where I step, study faces studying me, pretend not to notice, pause at crosswalks, look one way and step into traffic, let the beams flash on my belt metal and my coat buttons. I am searching for something in the night and don’t know what it is, but it’s lovely, and it’s in the fresh-air privacy that is easily found late Saturday into Sunday. (more…)
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Tags: Poetry
His snoring filled the car, the same air exhaled and pulled in again by a little nose hiding under honey blonde hair. His mother buttoned his coat on him before he climbed in the backseat and the top button was left undone, enough room allowed for his head to slump comfortably on his shoulder. The billowed coat was too warm for the weather, but made a soft pillow for his fat cheek to rest. We were always cautious with our children. (more…)
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Tags: Family Life
I first saw the house as a boy so my memories are tied to boyhood perception, cloudy and footed in snow just as the shape was on the hill. Houses can not lurk but they can be thought to be haunted by previous proprietors or by memories, and when an entire family has lived in a house for close to 70 years, the thoughts almost come to life when the door is pushed open and the bodies step back inside the past. (more…)
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Tags: Family Life
