I wrote this morning some dire prose. Dire it is. Honestly. Genuinely. Absolutely dire. I was on the train, I was bored, and I had my notepad with me. I had absolutely no thoughts in my mind at all. I decided I would write down words as they came to me. The sentence that emerged…Continue reading “On Uninspiring Writing”
Monthly Archives: January 2010
On Silly Songs For a Wednesday
In lieu of any meaningful content today, because meaningful content eludes even the best of us sometimes, here’s George Harrison’s “The Pirate Song” from Rutland Weekend Television: And, just for the hell of it, some Lord of the Rings humor: Peace! :h2g2:
On a Malarkey of Luggage
She was surrounded by luggage. I boarded the Light Rail train at Cultural Center, after running hard for half a block in sub-freezing cold, just to be sure that I would not have to wait fifteen minutes for the next Hunt Valley train. As I surmounted the stairs into the railcar I saw a womanContinue reading “On a Malarkey of Luggage”
On Multiple Monday Musings
I have nothing profound to say today. I feel as though I’ve been on a roll the past few days.
On Doctor Who’s “The End of Time”
The trouble with being a writer is that, occasionally, I’ll try and outthink a story as I’m reading it or watching it. Neil Gaiman wrote about this very thing in an introduction to a story or a novel I read a few years ago, that because he’s a storyteller, he knows the tricks and heContinue reading “On Doctor Who’s “The End of Time””
On Sherlock Holmes
It only took a week for me to get to the theater to see Robert Downey, Jr. as Sherlock Holmes in the rather unimaginatively titled Sherlock Holmes. But yesterday being New Year’s Day, with nothing else pressing, I went to the local movieplex in the afternoon, thinking I would miss the thronging crowds. Alas, IContinue reading “On Sherlock Holmes”
On a Letter to Myself, Aged Sixteen
Dear Allyn, aged sixteen, In many ways, you and I are strangers. The passage of twenty years will do that, making strangers of even the closest of friends, and you and I are closer than friends, family, even brothers. You are me at sixteen, I am you at thirty-six. Twenty years. You may find itContinue reading “On a Letter to Myself, Aged Sixteen”