Contemplating the love of music, of song, and consequently an artist, and the broken hearted letdown when something awful is revealed about them. How do you make sense of it? How do I? I give it a shot here - though I've not solved it all yet. I'm not sure I ever will.
Re-written/re-worked old writing from 2015 for today's writing - No one has the answer - with a song from Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds as accompaniment
Run Rosie Run Writings They kissed goodbye under their last roadside attraction below the shadow of a paint-peeling dinosaur its underbelly the only refuge from the middle of SUmmer desert heat he would say later that the sun-scorched her heart that all that dust in her lungs made her run Rosie bought a tiny souvenir …
I was becoming "Solitude Standing", staring out windows, or rolling them down to let the salty air in. Squinting at my reflection in the dressing room mirrors wondering who I was becoming...
My Grandfather taught me the love of the road, and of telling stories. In many ways, he helped shape the writer in me...
The Morning After - A Short Story/A Love Story between a record and a girl.
Two character excerpts from my working title novel, This Desert Life. Both are for the character of Laney.
Taking a look at my 90's musical GIRL ZONE and my struggle with finishing anything.
Another revisited, refreshed, and revised piece of writing - this one an ode to LA. I'm always writing a little bit about LA, it seems.
Girl Versus The F-Word. An older essay piece of mine gets a revision, and is just as relevant today, as it ever has been.
