Writing

These days, or parts of these days, I am writing a novel that, for now, I’ll just call “The Post Office Book”.

I write a lot of letters and postcards and very much think that counts.

Other hours of the day or month, I’m scribbling stories, or sentences and fragments that may miraculously tie themselves to one another and become a sort of story.

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    Ella Fitzgerald, First Lady of Song, born on this day in 1917 🙏🏻 Mama bird lost an egg 😢 For the second year in a row, the vision in my left eye has, weirdly, improved. I'm the Benjamin Button of eyeballs. 🌛 Chocolate colored eggs from our Copper Maran, Flashdance 🐓 Mingus, the thinker: "Mmmm....Tilaaaapia..." 💭 From Mary Ruefle's 'Cryalog'. "C" stands for the fact she cried, the number of Cs represents the number of times she cried, and "NC" indicates that she did not cry on that day. "The saddest thing is, I now find the cryalog very funny, and laugh when I look at it." RIP Black Eyed Susan. You were kind of a bully but your shimmery emerald black feathers were so pretty and you laid the biggest eggs and gave good FaceTime and were as alive as anything else in this world. Mahalo 🙏🏻 Power back this morning, it was a cold night, still warming up!
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