Maine
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Tonight, 8.27.09
The Pretender has returned and the fishermen are off-loading the lobster. They had to go out far today, I’m told, and though I don’t know what that means exactly, I hold visions of rolling seas and high sun and salt in the air far from the mainland. I will need a fleece tonight, like I… Continue reading
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What is to be done?
I came to Maine with great expectations. There was the writing that has never been granted the proper time; and the reading, short stints deserving more. The thinking. The meditation. And everything else. I have been here two months. Most of that, the great expectation agenda, has fallen by the wayside. And I wrestle with… Continue reading
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What the Hell?
When I die does this blog die with me? Or, rather, does a bit of it, like a clipped toe nail forgotten on the tile floor, remain indefinitely until someone comes along and cleans it up: “Yep, he’s gone. Better clean this mess.” I was in Paris only five days, but guess philosophy is in… Continue reading
...the house I live in... 