Clinton, South Carolina, Thursday, June 25, 2020, 1:14 p.m. Technology. Can’t live with it. Can’t live without it. It is supposed to be our friend. In many cases, it isn’t. In the newspaper business, nearly 30 years ago I worked for a large metropolitan newspaper. When I was there, toiling on the desk, that paper …
Tag: laptop
The Usual Ain’t Much Hap’nin’
Clinton, South Carolina, Tuesday, February 6, 2018, 11:18 a.m. This morning I wrote a NASCAR column for the Competition Plus website, which I do every week and will be posted before this one is over. I played a little guitar, trying to make sure I remember the words to a few more songs I might …
The Mercy Killing
The first part of this short story was called “The Feeling Bottoms Out.” I’m going to try to keep the length of this one fairly short, but here’s the second episode: Bob Cassaderne, The Morning Messenger’s publisher, didn’t actually get around to firing Clyde Barns. He had this convivial way of treating it as a …
Customer Service
Today I hope to unify my novel. No, I’m not going to compare elements of two manuscripts and somehow integrate them. It’s just that I have thirty-eight chapters of the Forgive Us Our Trespasses manuscript in the sinews of a laptop presently located at the Best Buy in Spartanburg and chapters, well, here. I bought …
My Fingers Are Faster
This sharp little number has speeded me up. It’s a transformer, capable of serving both my laptop and tablet needs. I don’t fully understand my tablet needs. I’ve had a laptop. I’ve had an iPhone. Now I’ve got the capability of existing in between. Middle Earth, maybe. What could be finer than to be in …
A Sticking Key
I’m grateful for this Sony laptop. It’s lasted longer than any of my previous writing apparati. The wear and tear of writing about distant events took its toll on a Dell, a Toshiba, and another brand whose name escapes me now. I’ve also been a writer – a sportswriter for most of that time – …
I Hate U
No. Not you. U. And I know nothing about Steven Singer. It’s the letter “U” I hate, Johnny Unitas, a truly great American, RIP, notwithstanding. I apologize to Johnny U. And uncles everywhere, of which I am one. Seven-Up, the Uncola. The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I don’t feel as guilty about the umbilical cord, Urban …
Nightrider's Lament 