Below you'll find a list of all posts that have been categorized as “Writing”
Finally today, the clouds over my psyche, my perception of what is now my life, lift for a host of reasons—hormones shifting, new allergy drugs working, sun returning even if only for fifteen minutes to light up this morning in my life. The weekend is an artist’s date of sorts—heading to Medford/Ashland with a friend and the matinee of Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival on Saturday. A break most welcome, a cultural outing sorely needed…
I was reminded of this, written last year, after walking at dusk today: My Four Seasons I. In spring, after it stops raining, the sun …
The day’s light disappears white and almost icy blue below the hills I can see from this upstairs window. It’s already darker behind me, the side of the house that faces east. Can a mood lift, a day be better simply because it isn’t raining? Because I accomplished something like setting my web site up…
A day here at the Oxbow compound. Going nowhere. Wrote a brief bio and statement of my poetry aesthetics for the next class I’m taking through Writers on the Net. To the tune of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto #5 performed by Treviso’s I Sonatori de la Gioiosa Marca at the Royal Castle, Warsaw…
Dateline July 2005—
Who was I reading recently who said life is hard enough even when you have everything going for you and your life is happy and easy?…
Still daylight here in the foothills of the Coast Range in western Oregon. In fact, I think there’s a long way to go. There was a parking lot full of cars already lined up at Bald Hill Park when I drove home an hour — I think there’s some kind of solstice celebration at the top of Bald Hill peak every year…
It has taken me all damn day to get the room of my own, the one in which I write, returned to a modicum of order so I can begin to focus on writing again. Piles of books, piles of random newspaper clippings, and newsletters and mail and receipts
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Combing through my archives of writing today and found this in the Anthracite Diaries section of my old blog, Stream of Consciousness. It’s a brief essay about being in my hometown on September 11, 2001 …
Today, Robin—the angel of feather dusters, the goddess of order and a mopped tile floor—came to clean. I look forward to her visits. Well, I look forward to after her visits when I sit in the living room and look around me at the what she hath wrought…
