What with all the good times lately, I didn't want to post about this particular subject, but it's been on my mind all day.
On this date a few years ago, I got married.
On this date a few years later, I told my partner I was scared we were through.
I don't like to think I'm superstitious but I can concede that anniversaries mean something. Remembering means something, even if the something is painful, the end of a shared life, a schism, a tear, a shredding, a shedding, incremental growth, a new name, old problems, a teetering roller coaster of successes and disasters. (And thinking in such +/- terms says something too.)
There aren't many pictures of me from a year ago. It wasn't a time for photographs, although I wish I 'd taken a few. This one, from the Jim Hodges show in Chelsea, probably says it best.
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...