October 28, 2011 § 11 Comments
Early memory, at least for me, is an archipelago.
Small islands of perfect memory rise out of the watery depths of time and forgetfulness as clear as this photo shot with my first camera (a Baby Brownie).
What follows is my memory of the first piece of jewelry I ever owned. It begins with me squatting in our gravel driveway holding the pin in my hand. « Read the rest of this entry »
October 21, 2011 § 11 Comments
Perhaps you’ve seen me at a stoplight, a scrap of paper pressed against my knee, furiously writing–feel free to honk if I blow the light change.
It may not be the safest practice, but when you think about it, a car is as close as modern man gets to Superman’s Fortress of Solitude.
Some of you sing while in that Fortress, others devise mental grocery lists or daydream. Since my song writing does not require a guitar or piano, I invent tunes while in my Japanese stronghold.
When I’m not writing songs behind the wheel, I sometimes think about how songs work. After cogitation spanning many miles of road I’ve come to the conclusion that songs are always about evoking emotion.
October 13, 2011 § 11 Comments
Today I’ll plant snow peas.
Dig up a patch for the Vidalia onions.
Thin the lettuce.
Even though no one will ask, I feel the need to justify getting up from this chair where I work all day writing stories, or arranging my next school author visit, or answering email from young readers.
He sometimes splits firewood or waters the garden, but he doesn’t feel the need to explain.
He goes because he loves the place.