Tag Archives: books

words words words

I read three books last weeks- or five- if you also count the novel manuscript I read twice while editing. I wrote three short pieces, a few blog entries, the letter of intent for a workshop I want to attend,

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Unpacking my head.

After a few days of jam-packing information into my skull, I was happy to veg in front of the 130 incher and see LOST. Good to have the familiar faces back. I wasn’t wowed, but I wasn’t disappointed, but I decided to stay away from web pages that promise clues and insider info.

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C'mon, the Assassins?


I remember stepping up and down on my stationary step in the living room of our East Bay condo trying to lose babyweight as the OJ fiasco played out.
That baby is now 13 and still,

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Gonna Get My Freak On

It’s BOOK FESTIVAL weekend and that means lots of words will be flung. I can barely contain myself. I’ll be pointing and snapping digitals and scribbling quotes and getting books signed. I’ll be like a geek at a D&D conference.

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It's cool to READ, people.

Men who read are sexy. As long as they are not reading self help books. Books can hold up plywood and make tables. They can boost the leg of a rickety table and kill large bugs. They can also allow you to abandon housework and lose yourself to reality.

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