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The muse is silent as the tomb.
The old adage is true: If you die, work doesn’t care. They’ll find someone to replace you by next week. But you only have this life. You have to make the most of it. Continue reading
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Jude and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.
Because some weeks deserve to be erased instead of wrecking your own sense of self-worth. Continue reading
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I’m the one that I want.
This brief life is so sweet. Take a bite out of it. Continue reading
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Deconstructing Thunder Road.
Hearing an old song like it was the first time. Continue reading
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It isn’t done with me yet.
Being a survivor means you have to keep surviving, no matter what life throws at you. Continue reading
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Dancing in the 80s.
Every now and then, particularly when I’m feeling my age, I need to refill myself with some of my favorite music from my youth. Continue reading
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Some shade of gray.
When you have children, you set your sights on creating a perfect human being. After all, you have some idea of control – that if you shape them and mold them just right, they will turn out to be perfect (just like you?). You determine that you will do things right, because you have a… Continue reading
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Christmas 1989
As we approached the holidays in 1989, our daughter was 5 and our son was barely 2. We were living in Austell, GA, a suburb of Atlanta in Cobb County. It was the holiday season of 1989, the poorest Christmas I ever spent, but in many ways, it was also the richest. This time of… Continue reading
About Me
A writer and solitary soul in the mountains of Western North Carolina.
Poetic License 