Baseball and going home

listening to post season baseball tonight. the stadium crowd sounds like it always did: an ocean wash, sea reaches shore, saltwater rushes on sand and retreats back again. it's one of the great memories of youth: Pop listening to the Mets in our dark living room. shea crowd alive. the game is breathing, Pop is … Continue reading Baseball and going home

Losing it

Used to be I could write by hand for ninety minutes at a stretch. My first attempt at a novel, a quarter century ago, I wrote two drafts out longhand, sometimes squatting on my haunches in the African bush, copybook resting on my thigh. I wrote physically as much as mentally (that story, a shoddy … Continue reading Losing it