Which I have every intention of attacking with great seriousness of purpose, just as soon as I determine exactly what a blog IS. I have two published novels, which I strongly encourage you to READ, REVIEW, and be in touch with me about anything and everything you got in the way of commentary and feedback.
I am currently hard at work on my third novel; and unless blogging and life in general prove too distracting, watch for it before the end of 2013. It is tentatively titled PUSHING THE RIVER. Hey, why don’t I post the first page! Here goes….
I am the heart of this house. The soul, too.
I am one hundred years old, will be come this spring anyway. I am one hundred years old and I have reached the point where I ain’t no earthly use to nobody. I am used up, washed out, spent, good for goddamn nothing.
Last few years, I been tired as hell, too. Oh, every so often they bring somebody in who looks me up and down and says, “tsk, tsk, my oh my,” and sticks things at me and does a tinkering here and there before saying the same damn thing: “I’m so sorry, but there’s just nothing we can do.” Oh, course they lah-di-dah about how well I’m holding up, considering my years and all, but then they point to the same damn parts every time and say, “here’s where the problem is, right here,” and they scratch their dang chins and shake their dang heads and look all hangdog long-faced forlorn, talking about me like I ain’t even there.
Well let’s see just see how dang well YOUR parts hold up when you reach the age of one hundred years I think to myself, let’s just goddamn see.
Shit show. That’s what these last four months of my life have been. Never thought I’d live to hear myself to use such language, neither, but there just ain’t no other words for it. I learned that expression from the little one, too, except of course, she ain’t little any more, she is all grown up.