THIS Rhett Butler Will Never Die

seems that a lot of the time when i feel urged to blog it is because i have complaints on my mind. and then i go quiet and you don’t hear anything from me for awhile. well, usually during those quiet times i DON’T have anything to complain about and things are going pretty well. does that make you think i am a born complainer and only write or phone if there is a problem? maybe. maybe not. i don’t know. i mean, i could complain now, about something, but that is not how i am feeling. or experiencing life right now. am i at peace? well, i actually think that i am pretty much at peace a lot of, or all the time. my own kind of peace and satisfaction with my lot. at least i am more at peace as more time passes, or so it seems. the things i complained about last time i blogged, i’m over, for now. i do have a concern this week. the profundity of deaths of 50 year old men in the news. it’s foolish to think that big names in the news can set trends, unless you are superstitious. but the de...

i’m here again. wanting to be a writer. wanting to be THE writer i’ve always been meant to be. feeling the urge. feeling the push. feeling the birth. pulling all the old ideas together into a mass of tissue that wants to breath and walk amongst others that can see what i mean. a coalescence, a formation, a tantamount expression of all the mysteries that i’ve whined about during this lifetime, this deathtime, this passage into the other. so i’ve recently, accidentally, though that’s not possibly true, made a connection with someone that i genuinely consider to be one of my favorite writers of all time. a beautiful woman, just a little younger than i am that specializes in writing young adult fiction. and i’ve earned a bit of an audience from her; by that, i mean that i’ve spoken out to her and she has responded to me. she has a busy life full of people; i’m not saying i think there is anyway that i’ll become a member of her clan, but i foresee the possibility of getting to meet her in...