Thursday’s Bumper Sticker
Stolen from a friend. She said that her father used to say this, teeth grit, under his breath.
The Writing Moment
It may be a new year, but it was the same him. His resolutions weren’t changed. He would slot time each day to read as well as time to put his rear into a chair and sit down to write. His resolutions were still to coax the muses to come and help him, write a novel, and then edit and publish it.
He didn’t think those resolutions would ever change.
Friday’s Wandering Thought
Someone asked him, “How are you doing?” “Good,” he answered with enthusiasm.
He didn’t know if his answer was true. He didn’t know how he felt. He thought how he ‘felt’ was a complicated question, and the truth about the answer slid along its own spectrum, shifting by the second, the minute, the day.
‘Good’ was probably a safe if reductive average.
