I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.

HEAD-SLAPS, SPEED-BUMPS and LIGHT-BULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.

They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.



Tuesday, March 18, 2014

The envelope...please

I am typing on a keyboard the size of a #10 envelope and gazing at a screen the size of a postcard. My laptop is on a bench somewhere waiting for a nerd to diagnose and fix it's infirmities. I am not used to this but liking that at least I can communicate to a world who really doesn't care that the spell check in my head, and on the screen, does not work. Where is my Funk and Wagnall's and do I care?


I am impotent without my laptop, my Kindle is my little blue pill. It will do for now, it has to, as I wait for the nerdy guy to call and tell me the awful truth. I have strived to manage with less, while learning that this little machine, and my mind, are far more advanced than I ever would have imagined.

I tried to add an image but my attempts failed. I am not as smart as I thought I was, are you?



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