There Are So Many People In The

If Nobody Speaks Of Remarkable Things, How Can They Be Called Remarkable?

Now That I've Had A Book Published, It Is Quite Validating, But A Bit Embarrassing.

He Thinks About Her, At This Moment, In Her House, A Few Thin Walls Away, Packing Her Life Into Boxes And Bags And He Wonders What Memories She Is Rediscovering, What Thoughts Are Catching In Her Mouth Like The Dust Blown From Unused Textbooks. He Wonders If She Has Buried Any Traces Of Herself Under Her Floorboards. He Wonders What Those Traces Would Be If She Had. And He Wonders Again Why He Thinks About Her So Much When He Knows So Little To Think About.

It Takes A Lot Of Energy And Creativity To Make Such Screwed Up Lives Carry On. And The Kind Of Will People Have To Survive, Year After Year, Dealing With That Stuff, Is Weirdly Impressive.

Last Week I Was Just Someone Who Had Had A First Novel Published.