You don’t have to go home but you can’t…stay…here… Ten years ago this summer. We drove around in the warm and the sun with our hair up and our windows down and sang the words and thought “This is it. This is us.” It was our anthem. Our summer song. To dream to and believe
Monthly Archives: June 2008
There’s no getting around the insanity that has been my week. I still haven’t got that organizational thing down. It’s a work in progress. If it were up to me, I’d hire my chica to do it for me. She’s saved my bacon more than once, always with a smile, and she’s doing it again
The Euro’s dad was talking about boundaries the other day. How Cumbria isn’t really Cumbria, but something all together new and not right-sounding. How some of Cheshire used to be some of Lancashire and how politicians like to redraw the map as it suits them. “You don’t really do that in America, do you?” I
I may as well begin with the latest bit of drama. Cousin Bedford tried to kill himself today. It’s no surprise really. That he tried it, or that no one in the family took notice. Because that’s the thing about Cousin Bedford. No one really cares. It’s his fault. He’s been stoned for eighteen years
“I don’t think that work ever really destroyed anybody. I think that lack of work destroys them a hell of a lot more.” – Katherine Hepburn
“…you have to live for the present. You have to be in the moment. Whatever has happened to you in your past has no power over this present moment, because life is now.” — Oprah Winfrey ———— This morning I read the transcript of Oprah’s commencement address given at Stanford over the weekend. Jaw dropping
“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” – Joan Didion ———— If you had to have one job, for the rest of your life, and you had to do it for free…what would it be?
I don’t know about you, but if I had a daughter with an auto immune disorder that attacked her skin cells and prevented them from making pigment, I wouldn’t look at her and say “Wow. You’re really pale.” This is what my mother said to me last week. I felt like Ricky Gervais in the
Last week the winner of the Orange Broadband Prize for Fiction was announced – British author Rose Tremain’s novel The Road Home. Other shortlisted nominees: Nancy Huston, Fault Lines; Sadie Jones, The Outcast; Charlotte Mendelson, When We Were Bad; Heather O’Neill, Lullibies for Little Criminals; and Patricia Wood, Lottery. The Bridgeport Prize International Creative Writing
It was ’round about this time, in 1867, that Mark Twain set out on his grand tour of Europe and the Middle East. The letters he wrote, to be published in papers back home, became the basis for a book. Hemingway, whom I’m slowly falling in love with again, once said that all modern American
