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Writing is solving one problem and then the next. It’s like building a house. Once you start, you have to finish… If you hired an architect and a year later you said, “What happened?” And he said, ‘I don’t know, I was blocked.’ You’d say, ‘What?!’
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Maybe not like bookends (per Paul Simon). Still, 54 years of friendship in this photo.
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Micro.blog seems to be amazingly promising in creating an online “third place,” where a community can flourish. But an IRL third place is crucial. Here’s a good article on how that can work (or not).
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How have I lived this long without knowing the greatness that is the sardine?
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Long day…
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While reading Annie Dillard, I wondered if she and Fred Buechner ever hung out. What a mystical/concrete pair. Some Googling might come up with the facts. But, it seems more respectful to both of them to let the possibility hang without a definite answer.
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What explains my not having read Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek SOMETIME in the 50 years since it was published?! Nevermind. I’m fixing that now, and am blown away.
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Coreopsis doing their thing; purple salvia spikes in the background.
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Nicolas de Staël, 1954
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BOSWELL. Sir Alexander Dick tells me, that he remembers having a thousand people in a year to dine at his house ...
JOHNSON. That, Sir, is about three a day.
BOSWELL. How your statement lessens the idea.
JOHNSON. That, Sir, is the good of counting. It brings every thing to a certainty, which before floated in the mind indefinitely.
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