Every generation produces a group of artists fueled by and strung out on drugs, sex, poverty, and other forms of desperation and desire who create something entirely new. Subsequent generations produce those who copy the original group, note for note, word for word, stroke for stroke, and believe they are carrying on the tradition ofContinue reading “Every generation…”
When I was young I had to earn my knowledge by exposing myself to painful, heartbreaking experience. In old age, knowledge requires equal tenacity in shielding my remaining fragments of innocence.
What I mean when I say “I love you,” and what it means when you hear it are two very different things. That’s where words break down. They can’t adequately describe the feeling, it must be demonstrated to be understood, if even that can do it.
I recently went to a memorial service for the mother of a friend. You can tell a lot about a person by the things people say about them when they’re not around, and by the memories of the people who love her. They talked about strawberry shortcake and Volkswagens; falling trees and fireworks; telephone callsContinue reading “Memorial – Ruth Detjen”
I We came from the place where they mold your dreams into memories that do not fade. We walked along the river that flows both ways until the machine ran out on us and the molten rocks flowed down the hills. We talked with the man who taught one of us how to swim andContinue reading “Like the back of my hand”