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thoughts

Sorting through it

I watched my mother research our family tree as I grew up, every scrap of paper and record was important to document and record. She’d track everything from grave sites to hobbies to diary entries etc etc. On my walls are oil paintings and other art done by great great something or the others. The […]

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If wishes were horses…..

What I wouldn’t give to be able to draw….graphic novel style…I have images in my head that I can’t get in front of me on my photo editing screen, and they don’t work trying to describe them in words. Occasionally I can puzzle some bits of images together to make something close-ish but it still […]

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thoughts

Who lived here…..

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thoughts

Memory flash

It’s the oddest memories…a search of ‘The Haunted Mansion’ on audibe music brings up not the soundtrack of the film, but the sounds of an old vinyl record I had when I was a kid. The tale of a pair of teens staggering into an old, seemingly abandoned house, during a rainstorm and being taken […]

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thoughts

Veiled

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thoughts

Brain dump

I can’t recall if I’ve explained this before, but author Neil Gaiman, in his Masterclass, said that using a brain dump is a good way to see what stories might be floating around in one’s head. He suggests writing….everything you can think of…and seeing what develops. Sort of a literary darkroom…it remind me of watching […]

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thoughts

To Tweet or not to Tweet…

I don’t remember how old I was when I realized my mom seemed to be obsessed with her family history. She was a genealogist besides being a wife and mother of two. Before she passed away, when I was 48 years old, we’d amassed a pretty interesting collection of pictures, and narratives of our ancestors. […]

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Meep Meep and the….

Twisted tails (pigs) Hungry beaks (vultures) Wise Shell (turtle) Old Mos (catfish-pond)

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Plurals

Notes from gaming–a plural of teenage girls is a giggle–and teen boys is a fart. The rationale is when you ask a boy to do something they don’t want to do they disappear like a fart in the wind.

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thoughts

Chelsea Memory No. 1

There’s another me, in another time, strumming a guitar on the fire escape of the Chelsea Hotel peering through the window as a neighbor shoots up a smack into the track infested crook of his arm. I strum as Leonard toodles and hums and tries some lyrics, making me blush over his subject matter. He […]