Blog

  • Distracted and Memories

    Sometimes I get ahead on my blog writing, and can put a couple of posts “in the can” and schedule them to go up on my site later in the week. Most of the time, I write a blog post on the fly. An idea will come into my head in the morning, and when I get a minute later in the day, I hammer it out and put it up. This might be obvious to most of you due to the amount of type-o’s and awful uses of grammar.

    Today, I lacked an idea in the morning, and went through the normal routine of trying to come up with something. I read the news, checked out social media, and talked to the wife, but nothing was sticking. My last-ditch effort was to go on Wikipedia and see if something was there.

    Did you know that on this day, the US Department of Justice acquired the military prison on Alcatraz Island, which would become Alcatraz Prison? Then I started reading about the failed escape attempt from Alcatraz. You know, the one Escape from Alcatraz was based off of.

    And it all reminded me of taking the ferry from Larkspur to San Francisco, which runs by Angel Island, Alcatraz and Treasure Island. I mean, the ferry doesn’t get that close to Alcatraz, but close enough to know what it is, and see the prison buildings.

    It was a great ferry trip on the water, and I made the trip four times, once at night, which was pretty amazing; The lights of San Francisco, and the whole Bay area; The stars, and the sound of the waves. I will probably never ride the Larkspur ferry again, though it is there in my memory as one of the happier moments in my life, while also being one of the worst years of my life.

    It had only been six months since my mother’s passing, and I was in the Bay area trying to live my life, even though there was this huge hole in my soul that just left me feeling sad all the time. But I kept trying to push forward, to keep living and experiencing life. And I knew while it was happening, being on that ferry and watching/feeling the fog begin to roll in, that this was something unique; a moment worth experiencing; Seeing and doing something new. And it was special. But tinged with the melancholy of knowing that I was doing it all alone.

  • Short Story Review: “The Choc-Ice Woman” by Mary Costello

    (The short story “The Choc-Ice Woman” by Mary Costello appeared in the October 16th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Anna Morrison

    I love short stories, just in case you weren’t aware. It’s an art form that has an endless well-spring of inspiration and creativity due to the uniqueness of each and every author who attempts to create a story. And I also know that a story can be well written and honest, and at the same time, not be my cup of tea. It is not the fault of the author or the story, as I feel I can objectively read a story, understand and appreciate its qualities, and also know that the story isn’t for me.

    “The Choc-Ice Woman” by Mary Costello is a good story. It’s well written, honest, smart, pulls in many different ideas, synthesizing them into a cohesive through line, which arrives at a conclusion that is satisfying for what the story was attempting to accomplish. But the story didn’t resonate with me, when I felt that it should have.

    I spent time contemplating this, even re-read the story, and I can’t fault Costello or the piece. Perhaps it is a tad long (I’ll talk about that in a minute) but it never felt like the story was wasting my time. Which has led me to believe that the fault lies with my stars, and not the piece or the author. Thus I am feeling disappointed in myself.

    “The Choc-Ice Woman” deals with failure, infidelity, loss, death, even love, forgiveness and acceptance. All good themes when it comes to a short story, and it should be read, which is why I am recommending it. The story is structured with a present timeline which is interspersed with flashbacks, thoughts and insights of past events and characters thus building up the dramatic tension of the present timeline. This structure is handled smartly and works effectively. There is a strong feeling of pathos and loss in the story that never overwhelms the narrative, no wallowing here, but felt more like the melancholy that it is to be an adult who has made decisions in life; where regret is never too far away.

    And still I felt detached from it all, but that’s on me, and I can admit that.

    (The last thing that I do want to say about the piece is that it does take it’s time, and I like that Costello did that. I have a very bad feeling that if a student, or member of a writer’s workshop, had brought this in, it would be critiqued to death for being too long. I would like to stand up and say that writers should take their time, and not rush things. I feel short fiction is being done to death with “cutting to the chase,” or eliminating all details for the sake of making stories move faster – as if speed of narrative makes your writing better. Or simplifying down to the edge nothingness is more meaningful – sometimes less is actually less. Have courage writers! Be not afraid to write more and take your time!)

  • Edgy

    I guess it was this weekend, that I started to notice that I was getting edgy. The wife refers to it as “being feisty” because I find reasons to argue over little things. It’s not like they are real arguments, more like just contradictory comments – never ending comments. Either way, it gets on people’s nerves.

    And it first, I don’t know why everything is rubbing me the wrong way. I have a twitch in my eye and jaw, FYI. Then I look at the calendar and see that on Saturday it’s been five years since my mom’s passing.

    Now it makes sense.

    After my mom passed, I remember reading an essay about how the author was dealing with their grief, and how the week of their parent’s passing, they would find themselves angry, and lashing out. They knew why they were doing it, and even though they tried to stop it, they couldn’t.

    I feel like that. I feel I should know better, and not do it, but also, doing it feels correct.

    What I was surprised by was forgetting, or a better phrase to use would be, not remembering that my mom’s passing was coming. A little of it was avoiding the anniversary. Another bit was that I actually forgot. I went into October thinking about Fall, leaves, gourds, apple picking, and Halloween. Like you should. This was the first year where October didn’t mean “mom’s death.”

    But sub-consciously, I did know. Maybe it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind, but it was rattling around back there. It was always be there, and that’s okay.

  • An Autumn Music Break

    Bit of a Bisy Backson Day…

  • ODDS and ENDS: Comfort over Style, a Willie Nelson Halloween, and ???

    (Our Brand means Quality…)

    I’m in my mid-forties, and I have never been a stylish person. In fact, my “style” has barely evolved beyond what I wore in high school: jeans, tee-shirt, over shirt, All-Stars. When I was working in an office, I held on to a sort of American/Ivy style of khakis, button-down, plaid tie, sports coat, and (depending on my mood) All-Stars. Since my move to stay-at-home-dad I have cannibalized my clothing a put on a mismatch of casual and casual work clothing. What that means is one day could be a tee-shirt, while the next is a button-down, and on another I might put on a sports coat. But I noticed something today, and it’s that I have started putting on running shoes as my go-to footwear now. Also, I have started lounging around the apartment in workout clothes – you know, with elastic waist bands. I think I might be slowly de-evolving into comfy clothes most of the time.

    Halloween is coming and we are all looking to figure out what our costume will be this year. My daughter has a very specific idea that she is looking to execute, and I will not be the one to ruin her surprise. That leaves the wife, me and the dog. We really wanted to do a family theme. A long time ago, the kid went as Dee Snider from Twisted Sister, and we were her roadies. We all loved it, but we haven’t worked together on a united costume since. Last year, I pushed very hard for us to be the Beastie Boys from the “Intergalactic” video, but I got no takers. This year, I think we should go as Willie Nelson, but in different periods of his career. Like, the wife would do young Willie, and I would be old Willie, and the dog would be middle of the career Willie. I don’t know if you know this, but having grown up in Texas, we are required to dress up as Willie for at least one Halloween.

    Ice Cream solves all problems. Seriously, try it.