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"Why do they [write] for their money? Why do they [work] for short pay? They ain't getting nowhere and they're losing their share. They must have gone crazy back there." — Michael Burton (paraphrased)

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Tag: writing

Stuck in a Rut, Part Two

On March 9, 2014March 16, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn FictionLeave a comment

This is the continuation of a short story that itself is a continuation and expansion of a song I wrote. It was four in the morning. Josie Swenson found herself fixated with a full moon casting an eerie glow through the open window in a rundown home near campus. The front faced the soccer stadium …

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Left to My Own (Poetic) Devices

On March 8, 2014March 8, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn HumorLeave a comment

“Love your liver with Liverite Liver Aid.” I just saw that on TV, right after, “Carolina. Duke. The rivalry continues.” That’s a juxtaposition. It’s about as juxtaposed as it gets. Why would Liverite be placed right after a basketball promo? Was it a matter of some programmer just popping in – or whatever they do …

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Stuck in a Rut, Part One

On March 6, 2014March 18, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn FictionLeave a comment

This is an extension of a song I wrote. It was a Thursday, but she didn’t have a class until eleven on Friday, and then she had to go to Lake Murray to spend the weekend with the family, and next week was Spring Break, so Josie Swenson didn’t see any reason she couldn’t have …

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Phases and Stages

On March 5, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn LifeLeave a comment

I’m going through a phase. It’s not numbered. It wasn’t “phased in.” It’s not a change of life. It’s decades past puberty and, I hope, a good deal ahead of dementia. I’m probably the last person on earth who would declare it maturity, a concept about which I have been in denial since it seemed …

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Dishonesty Is the Best Policy

On March 3, 2014March 4, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn HumorLeave a comment

My sister was dying. She was in hospice care. I’d just finished visiting her. She had only a couple days left. My cheeks were red with tears as I walked through the lobby.* Someone, I don’t even remember who, waved and walked over, slapped me on the back and asked, “Hey, how you doing?” My …

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Winnowing Out the Bad Words

On March 1, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn HumorLeave a comment

Every writer makes a transition in which he goes from being bold and erratic to precise and accurate. I don’t mean facts. It’s the words, stupid. It used to be the economy back before it became a football to be tossed back and forth between political parties. Everyone has memories that cause shudders of regret. …

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Consequences of a Crazy World

On February 26, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn Humor1 Comment

What if it is discovered, oh, in a decade or so, that the smartest people are the ones in prison because they aren’t allowed to use Twitter? What if the language changes, veering in the direction of mindless simplicity by means of the use of “u” instead of “you,” “2” instead of “to” or “too” …

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A Book, the Highlights of Which Were …

On February 25, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn BooksLeave a comment

Sometimes reading is a pleasure. Sometime it is more an investment. At the moment, I’m fairly racing through Frank Deford’s Over Time: My Life as a Sportswriter. He’s been my favorite writer of sports since I read his first novel, Cut ‘n’ Run, when I was about 15. I’ve been using a highlighter, as if …

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Mainly Running in Place

On February 19, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn ReligionLeave a comment

Last week I was driving through the middle of town, traffic slowed down to a crawl, and I looked to my left where the owner of a new Chinese restaurant was standing on the other side of the window, holding his smiling little boy. The toddler was giggling. I waved at him. He waved back. …

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At Least I’m Writing This

On February 17, 2014 By wastedpilgrimIn HumorLeave a comment

I might as well admit it. I’m in a bit of a slump. Or maybe it’s a rut. My wheels are spinning. Sand, perhaps. I’m lapping away. I have a picture of where my writing needs to go. It’s just in soft focus. I’m getting Monet when I need a stark, black and white photograph. …

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