Writing
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That Ontologically-Loaded Word: Self
I’ve never been in therapy, but I’ve seen In Treatment and read a little of Freud and imagine it so. That’s good enough for me. Continue reading
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The Limit of Anything is not a Natural Place
…together, the writing and the life, they make something of which I am unsure–but I am the student of that something, trying to be more sure. 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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I have a done a few things well…
I had a college literature professor, Colin Campbell, who likened writers to spiders. Colin would sit behind his desk, his eyes dancing behind his thick glasses, his face expressive and smiling, while with his fingers he would make itsy-bitsy spider motions, like one does for young children, and declare, “The spider makes its web from… Continue reading
...the house I live in... 