Sometimes I worry that I'm missing the point.
I'm a heady person, I think; I spend beaucoup time musing over my stories, eavesdropping, daydreaming, wondering, making up narratives about people, a girl with prematurely gray hair, razor cut and tinged with purple; or the tall dude at Rudy's wearing shoes that looked like they were made from red felt.
So many lovely, subtle details and yet the big picture eludes me. Why such a horde of shoppers at Value Village on President's Day? Hm, because everything in the store was 50% off--as announced by the truck-sized sign at the entrance. Which I missed because I had something on my mind.
There's little subtlety in this graffiti I snapped at Stone Way and Bridge, bordering a gaping construction zone hole.
What is art?
Already painted over. Already gone.
There's a shadow constantly hovering at my shoulder. For all my gallivanting into the social whirl, nevermind the positive social media...
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Welp, after a half-year experiment in social media, BSP has returned to its blogger roots. I hated Faceborkland, tbh. Sure, it was easier t...