My friends all moved away / And they moved to big cities / Where they fight all that traffic every day / While I sit here and rot / In this godforsaken town / That gets older and sadder every day. At the produce stand, not all was drudgery. Sam Maitlin encountered …
Tag: writing
Changes Ten by Ten
Fifty years ago, my father voted for and bet on Barry Goldwater, not to win the election but to carry South Carolina. He won. Goldwater lost. The election, not South Carolina. NASCAR’s greatest hero at the time, “Fireball” Roberts, was horribly burned at Charlotte Motor Speedway. He lived for more than two months, and every …
What I Ain’t Got, Part Two
My life ain’t so hot / But I’m past the point of caring / About all the things / I ain’t got. Sitting on the tailgate of a pickup and haggling over squash was simple compared to, oh, writing a book. Sam Maitlin tended to ruminate on the simple pleasures while he waited on …
What I Ain’t Got, Part One
I don’t know where I am / And I don’t know where I’m going / I reckon it don’t matter anyway / What factories are left here are mainly hiring Mexicans / I reckon that they’ll work without much pay. Years ago, it had been the site of a filling station. Then it was …
I Don’t Want To Bug You … But I Must
I think of “Bones” on Star Trek: “I’m a doctor, Jim, not a tour guide.” The age requires versatility, and I am sadly lacking, in general, but also where my books are concerned. Put me in front of an audience, and I am fine. I’m perfectly confident in my ability to talk about my novels, …
A Friendly Background
No afternoon baseball today. I pay to get all the games on TV, mainly because I love the Boston Red Sox and live in South Carolina, but I often use other teams’ games as a soothing background for writing, reading, playing guitar and sketching. I look up when I hear yelling, and then I watch …
Scuppernongs and Muscadines, Part Four (Final)
Now that I am old myself / It doesn’t seem so bad / Because sometimes simple rhymes / Are the only ones we have / I wouldn’t have name him Frank / But I never had a son / I sold my soul in different roles / Not to be outdone. One morning, five …
Continue reading Scuppernongs and Muscadines, Part Four (Final)
It’s Only Fiction (A Song)
Here are the lyrics to my latest song. I wrote most of it a couple months ago, but I wasn't particularly pleased with it until this morning, when I finally got around to dickering with the words again. My daddy was a drunkard but I didn’t write about him in my song I claimed …
The Paved Road
The first thing that I saw / When I woke up this morning / Was bad news on the TV I left on the night before / It’s the same old, sad story / Somebody shot somebody / Most of the time the victim / Was a junkie or a whore. The Weather Channel …
The Paved Road, Part Three (Final)
Well, the woman that I loved / Didn’t quite return the favor / And the woman that loved me / Left me tinged with regret / As I ruminate about the state of my sad depression / My life seems no more worthy than an empty silhouette. Bundled up in the house was a …
Nightrider's Lament 