Author: SGJ
I dream of a word processor that throws a little a WPM gauge up in the right corner, so I can keep a close eye for when I’m backing off the throttle more than I should. Way back, when instant-messaging first came around? I used to write chat scripts to talk to different hardly-remote people, and we’d testrun it, use the chat to IM, all that. What I found out pretty quick with that was that I never cared for the content of our back and forth. What mattered to me was winning the …
Not that industrial rock (if that’s that term) album that turned up a while back, but a different arrangement (not sure about that word either) of a song I really thought I knew. It’s like that slowed-down “Born in the USA”—you hear the song all over again for the first time. Pretty excellent. And? Back when Waylon died, this was when we all still had answering machines with actual little micro-cassettes in them. Mine that day was stuffed full, everyb…
I forget who says it, but a while back someone was talking about how the good singers and musicians and actors, they can always do pitch-perfect impressions of their contemporaries. Maybe comedians too? Bet so. Actors, of course. Anyway, just stumbling upon this, from the year I was born. Merle, man, he so had everybody down. Like, dangerously good. And then it rolls into the usual star-studded medley, which makes me smile and smile and smile . . .
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Good time at Tattered Cover last night, with a whole TOC’s worth of us there—enough that we needed a spinner-wheel to figure out who got to read:
[ photo: Catherine Spader ]
Which? My number spun up. I had to borrow a woman from the audience’s reading glasses, since my arms are only so long, but when I focused in, it was on one of Ed Bryant’s last two published stories. So cool to get to read his words to a big crowd. Thanks, Hex Publishers / Josh Viola. And, thanks, …
In my weakest moments, I imagine that there’s some version of myself in some distant iteration of Earth, dunking like Shawn Kemp:
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This shot of Bruce the shark about to eat little Alex Kintner in #JAWS was cut from the film. pic.twitter.com/TpFXQAsn7Y
— Stan Winston School (@SWinstonSchool) November 7, 2017
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is the NYT bestselling author of 30 or so books, +350 stories, some comic books, and all this stuff here. He lives in Boulder, Colorado, and has a few broken-down old trucks, one PhD, and way too many boots. More