Archive for January 2009

The outline of a writer's day…

There’s an interesting website that give a wee bit of insight into “how writers, artists, and other interesting people organize their days,” called DAILY ROUTINES. My friend, poet and novelist Lisa Pasold (who’s first novel will be out this fall — look for it!), told me recently that Philip Roth was downright monastic in his…

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Galaxies, holographs, physicists and theologians

A number of years ago, my Best Beloved and I were invited to Magdelan College, Oxford, to have dinner at the high table. It was quite an honor, bestowed upon us through no merit of our own, but because my Best Beloved’s cousin was a don there. We met in one of the many ivy-covered…

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The daughter of an alcoholic writes to the judge…

Looks attractive at first glance, yes? Earlier this week, a man called me from another city, a friend of my father’s. I’ll call him Joe. Joe has thirty days sober — made it through the holidays — but was having a bad day, full of anxiety, and was afraid he was going to drink again.…

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Chet Raymo's work

Last night, round about 11:30, I finished reading Climbing Brandon, by Chet Raymo. There aren’t many books that keep me up past my bedtime, but Raymo never disappoints and I thought I’d mention his work here in the hopes of persuading a few of you to discover him, if you haven’t already. Author Chet Raymo…

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The effect of real and imagined landscapes

I read an interesting article recently in the Boston Globe by Jonah Lehrer, in which the author explores recent studies into how living in cities can hurt your brain. I forwarded it to my Best Beloved, with “I told you so” in the subject line. In Lehrer’s article, he acknowledges that cities have historically been…

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A prayer for the children of Gaza

Like many of you, my Best Beloved and I have spent considerable hours since the recent war between Israel and Gaza broke out watching the news, talking and praying for all innocent victims. Like you, we grieve and weep at the horror, the insanity, the heart-breaking sense of deja-vu. It seems at moments that the…

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Consider the orchid & the flying pig

For the past ten years or so, I have been tortured by orchids. By this I mean, periodically, in a fit of optimism, I will buy an orchid, drawn to not only the impossible beauty of the flower but also to a certain quality of stillness that orchids have. Nothing terribly exotic, just Phalaenopsis, which…

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