4/03/2024

Here where are sounds whirring

I don't write about myself anymore. Now that I am making a living as an independent journalist, I don't take the time. And it doesn't matter. I write every day as an imaginary figure but I am real, I think, and I hear a dishwasher where I am now and feel it's soon time to get my own.


at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Thoughts between Orange and Culpeper

The Virginia countryside rolls by as I move further away from home and toward the second one that serves as the locus of my family. There ar...

  • Video builds the radio guy
    I'm watching the tail end of the debut of Max Headroom, one of those shows from the late 80's that seemed so amazingly different, re...
  • The appropriateness of the location
    I was last in this spot forty-four years ago when I was six years of age and much of who I was had already been defined inside of me. Maybe ...
  • Our adventure downtown, courtesy of CTS
    My two and a half year old daughter and I went for a quick two hour trip today. I had to go back to the office to get some things I had left...