“The lustre of mid-day to objects below. . .” ZooLights holiday displays, Oregon Zoo, Portland, OR, 4 December 2011.
It’s been a good week for publications. On Monday, my story “Barefoot in the Guadalupe” appeared in Red Dirt Review, and the same day I got word that I’ll have a story in Scintilla sometime in the future. Then today, Jersey Devil Press‘s special Holiday Half-Issue my colleagues and I have been working on turned up … More Merry freakin’ Christmas (don’t worry, we do Thanksgiving and New Year’s, too)
As I did last year, I’m using November’s photo blog posts to record some mood-setting pictures for my NaNoWriMo project. This year: the apocalypse, which involves a lot of ash. Hence these doctored, ashed-up photos of fog in Portland. (Today was eerily — and almost undrivably — foggy as well, so it felt like good timing … More Photo blog 69
Remember the photo blog? Yeah, me too. It’s back, by popular demand (of my wife.)
I’m sort of semi-cheating this week. I am working on an exercise, but the story I’m working on will eventually show up online as a story, so I’d rather keep it under wraps while I work on it. Still, I want to offer something along the same lines here, so behold, a quick excerpt from … More Writer’s Notebook: Holiday story
Flag-themed fruit breakfast, bald eagle through a waterfall, grilled cheese and lemonade for lunch. Frisbee in the park surrounded by bikinied sunbathers and stocky, muscle-flexing softball players. A cramped bus ride, fireworks over the river downtown, freaks and drunks and street-preachers at the bus stop, tired crabby Americans all the way home. Exactly as it … More Small stone, Vol. 2, #20
My mother is retiring from 36 years of teaching, and to honor her, my sister, my brother, and I threw her a surprise party while I was down visiting during my PCA/ACA conference. My sister and my mom’s good friend Debbie, also a teacher, also organized a scrapbook for people to leave memories of my … More A Writer’s Notebook: an essay about Mom
It is just after midnight. A new year. Leaning out the window, I notice that the air in the alley smells the same as last year. Looking up into the black sky, the fireworks diminished and the stars blotted blind by the city lights, I realize that this year will not feel real until the … More Small stone #1