You know the day’s about to unfold as something unusual when a birthday caller to a radio station requests Nancy Sinatra’s Boots song.
Yesterday was terrific. Sat down with a friend in a casual meeting on his short stories and felt a bit like agent/editor to his writer. Great feeling; to encourage genuine talent and see the progress made when working together towards a goal. The man has an amazing narrative voice; so much so that rereading the stories over and over again is never painful. Far easier than some of the stories I’m forcing myself through in some of the lit journals I’m trying to get caught up on again.
Ordered Marquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera. Been away from his magic too long.
Oh, and another game–though I haven’t been as hot as I should be on them.
And a book on Flash8.
And, for inspiration that I sorely need: Willie.
Feeling old and out of it, useless, worn and dopey. Need to kick away the thoughts the words the people that can so easily play upon my own self-doubt. Because I let them.
But the radishi and basil and the lettuce have come up to cheer me on and show the way to new life and new commitments. I need commitment. I need the passion once again for something that may never bear the fruit but offers still the sense of purpose while it lasts.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I’m enjoying reading again, myself. Oh my, Nancy Sinatra. That takes me back, though I shudder to admit I remember that song.