Good afternoon, gentle readers.
As some of you may know for the last few months I've been searching for a house. Well, it appears that I have finally found one.
But what does the end of my house hunt mean for you?
Well, for one thing I probably won't be posting odd house-hunting related short fiction any longer. Instead, I will probably start posting house-furnishing related fiction.
Yes, do try to control your excitement. I know it's difficult with the possibility of furniture and carpet related stories to look forward to, but we are all adults here and must maintain a certain modicum of dignity.
And for those of you hankering for my next book (You know who you are. Yes. You. In the corner, over there. I see you.), you might be interested to know that my upcoming relocation will not detract from my current literary efforts.
So, that's my big news.
Hurrah!
Before I go though, I would like to reiterate to blog readers that they can see me in all my ponderous fleshy wonder this Wednesday at the Richland County Public Library on Garners Ferry Road. I'll be speaking at a program regarding comics and literacy. It starts at 5:00 p.m. and ends when it ends.
And after that? What next?
Carpet and paint samples!
Monday, September 23, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
Comics & Literacy at the Library!
Gentle readers, this Wednesday on September 25th, I will be taking part in a program discussing comics and literacy at the Richland County Public Library at 7421 Garners Ferry Road, Columbia, SC. The event starts at 5:00 P.M.
So, ladies and gentlemen, if you'd like to actually see and hear me speak, as opposed to reading the ramblings presented at this blog, come on down! I'll see you there!
Comics & Literacy
Richland County Public Library SE
7421 Garners Ferry Road
Columbia, SC 29209
So, ladies and gentlemen, if you'd like to actually see and hear me speak, as opposed to reading the ramblings presented at this blog, come on down! I'll see you there!
Comics & Literacy
Richland County Public Library SE
7421 Garners Ferry Road
Columbia, SC 29209
Monday, September 16, 2013
Comics & Literacy
Good morning, gentle readers.
Next week, I’m giving a talk on comics and literacy at one of our local libraries. So, if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to take this opportunity to produce a rough first draft of what I plan on saying.
So, without further ado...
Next week, I’m giving a talk on comics and literacy at one of our local libraries. So, if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to take this opportunity to produce a rough first draft of what I plan on saying.
So, without further ado...
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Thoughts on Falling
Hello, gentle readers,
A few days ago I posted a poem, Falling, here on the blog. It was inspired by the upcoming anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attack on New York City.
I am not particularly comfortable writing about such things. I get uneasy. I squirm. My stomach fills with butterflies.
Why?
Because it feels like I'm somehow taking advantage of the pain of other people. I feel like a scavenger, picking at the bones. Like I'm tearing the scab off a wound that hasn't healed, just to see if it will still bleed a little.
Another reason for my unease is the tone of my poem. Falling on one level is about moving on, grieving and letting go, but on another level I think it's very obviously about 'compassion fatigue.' It is not a particularly sympathetic work.
On that day, twelve years ago, I woke to my clock radio. However, instead of the usual musical program, I was roused by two men talking about 'the disaster in New York.' I climbed out of bed, went into my living room and turned on my television.
CNN and every other network was showing the same images over and over again: the planes smashing into the World Trade Center towers.
I can remember feeling physical shock at the sight and then horror when they started playing it again. Whenever I think of the events of that day, I think of that image. The plane smashing into the building, the towers collapsing in fire and ash.
The events of September 11th changed our entire society, here in the United States. It changed how we viewed ourselves, how we viewed others, how we interacted with the entire world.
We haven't recovered from it.
Today, on the anniversary of that awful day, the country echoes with cries of, "Never forget!" Unspoken is the sentiment, "Never forgive!"
We hate.
We fear.
Some would say that those feelings are understandable; that they are justified; that they make us human.
I would argue that those feelings were understandable and justified at the time of the attacks. Today, they do not make us human; they reduce us, make us less than human.
The towers have been falling in our heads and hearts for over a decade. They never stop falling, they never reach the ground.
Isn't it about time that they did? Isn't it time for them to stop falling?
A few days ago I posted a poem, Falling, here on the blog. It was inspired by the upcoming anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attack on New York City.
I am not particularly comfortable writing about such things. I get uneasy. I squirm. My stomach fills with butterflies.
Why?
Because it feels like I'm somehow taking advantage of the pain of other people. I feel like a scavenger, picking at the bones. Like I'm tearing the scab off a wound that hasn't healed, just to see if it will still bleed a little.
Another reason for my unease is the tone of my poem. Falling on one level is about moving on, grieving and letting go, but on another level I think it's very obviously about 'compassion fatigue.' It is not a particularly sympathetic work.
On that day, twelve years ago, I woke to my clock radio. However, instead of the usual musical program, I was roused by two men talking about 'the disaster in New York.' I climbed out of bed, went into my living room and turned on my television.
CNN and every other network was showing the same images over and over again: the planes smashing into the World Trade Center towers.
I can remember feeling physical shock at the sight and then horror when they started playing it again. Whenever I think of the events of that day, I think of that image. The plane smashing into the building, the towers collapsing in fire and ash.
The events of September 11th changed our entire society, here in the United States. It changed how we viewed ourselves, how we viewed others, how we interacted with the entire world.
We haven't recovered from it.
Today, on the anniversary of that awful day, the country echoes with cries of, "Never forget!" Unspoken is the sentiment, "Never forgive!"
We hate.
We fear.
Some would say that those feelings are understandable; that they are justified; that they make us human.
I would argue that those feelings were understandable and justified at the time of the attacks. Today, they do not make us human; they reduce us, make us less than human.
The towers have been falling in our heads and hearts for over a decade. They never stop falling, they never reach the ground.
Isn't it about time that they did? Isn't it time for them to stop falling?
Monday, September 9, 2013
Falling
FALLING
Ten years have gone by.
The towers are still falling.
Frozen. Timeless. Still.
Trapped in memory and grief.
We do not forget.
Like the towers we are trapped.
Tangled in our grief
Mesmerized by shock and awe.
The ground waits for us.
All of us and the towers.
The moment stretches.
It is elastic. Awful.
We wait for the snap,
For mercy, for earth’s embrace.
Dashed to pieces,
Obliterated by time.
But time is not kind.
We are still falling. Graceless.
Falling through the years.
Trailing ash across the sky.
Let the grave take us.
We have fallen long enough.
Ten years have gone by.
The towers are still falling.
Frozen. Timeless. Still.
Trapped in memory and grief.
We do not forget.
Like the towers we are trapped.
Tangled in our grief
Mesmerized by shock and awe.
The ground waits for us.
All of us and the towers.
The moment stretches.
It is elastic. Awful.
We wait for the snap,
For mercy, for earth’s embrace.
Dashed to pieces,
Obliterated by time.
But time is not kind.
We are still falling. Graceless.
Falling through the years.
Trailing ash across the sky.
Let the grave take us.
We have fallen long enough.
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