Up ahead of me and the kids: Arle is walking through the woods, stopping every now and then to look at a crashing just off to her left. Or her right. I never exactly see her do this because I am the one throwing the big rocks or fat sticks into the brush. What I do is: I make sure she’s moving ahead on the trail and then when I’m sure she’s not about to turn around: I launch one out through the air. Then by the time it makes a huge racket (I’m not going to lie/ I’m going for a sort of a frightened nesting Yeti meets flushed ruffed grouse vibe here), I am spun around, standing still, looking back at the kids straggling along.
Just read "Walkin' Talkin' Wheatfield Cicada Blues." This is the third or fourth Thunder Pie essay I've read so far, and thee things are real gems. Serge is not only great rock-n-roll musician. He has the heart and soul of a Poet. That's Poet with a capital P.
"I want to shine at this and I am determined to. I want to help Charlie in his time of mild need here, be the guy/the dude/the Dad, but it’s not always that easy for me. I get tricked sometimes by my own imagination. I see myself doing it one way, being this one person, and then something shifts and the axis gets bumped and the mental landscape slides and all that."
Oh, I hear that. I'm pretty sure every Father that ever walked this planet has felt like this.
Wow! Cool supplement for us friends and fans. NOMADLAND was very special indeed. Something to just sink into and luxuriate in. A side of America a lot of folks don't even know exists, let alone empathize with. Check out SOUND OF METAL when you have a chance. I know you'll dig it. And for someone, like myself, who's suffered some hearing loss (and tinnitus as well, which sucks indeed) via a combination of genetics and a lifetime of playing loud music, it touched a nerve. Be well. And keep writing.
“Why can one person steal me like this and talk to me through photos from across time and space?” The magic of connections expressed in one spare sentence. Beautiful. Loved this one.
"I’m a cool-rockin’ American depression dog married to a 10,000-year-old soulful witch who plays first base." And that makes you a lucky man. My favorite so far!
"I hear her laugh a little and she doesn’t try to hide it, and it adds years to my life, I think." That's the ball game right there, an essay in a single sentence. You did it last week with "The day is coming and nothing can stop her." Keep 'em comin'.
My son is 13 now and still playing local and travel ball. You capture t-ball perfectly. They could tether Wonder Dog from the friggin Macy's parade on top of the tee and BAP! They would still hit the doomed plastic holder.
And those damn uniforms are the worst part. Getting up on Sat. to travel to God's knows where Waze takes my hung-over ass, its the uniforms that get you. Where is the other sock? Where is the in-house hat? No ! Not the travel hat! I'm getting sweaty just thinking about it.
And why do they assign white pants to the players? Mine son's are instantly covered in Wawa entrails on the way home from distribution . I tell him to slide in the dirt during warm ups and BP to make up for my lack of interest/skill in bleaching.
Good stuff man. Your prose has a strong Kerouac-style going on.
Just read "Walkin' Talkin' Wheatfield Cicada Blues." This is the third or fourth Thunder Pie essay I've read so far, and thee things are real gems. Serge is not only great rock-n-roll musician. He has the heart and soul of a Poet. That's Poet with a capital P.
I was with you on point.
Felt the feeling of it all.
Well written, young man ♡
"I want to shine at this and I am determined to. I want to help Charlie in his time of mild need here, be the guy/the dude/the Dad, but it’s not always that easy for me. I get tricked sometimes by my own imagination. I see myself doing it one way, being this one person, and then something shifts and the axis gets bumped and the mental landscape slides and all that."
Oh, I hear that. I'm pretty sure every Father that ever walked this planet has felt like this.
Just ordered a new book. Thanks Buddy.
Wow! Cool supplement for us friends and fans. NOMADLAND was very special indeed. Something to just sink into and luxuriate in. A side of America a lot of folks don't even know exists, let alone empathize with. Check out SOUND OF METAL when you have a chance. I know you'll dig it. And for someone, like myself, who's suffered some hearing loss (and tinnitus as well, which sucks indeed) via a combination of genetics and a lifetime of playing loud music, it touched a nerve. Be well. And keep writing.
This really is a wonderful piece of writing.
“Why can one person steal me like this and talk to me through photos from across time and space?” The magic of connections expressed in one spare sentence. Beautiful. Loved this one.
"I’m a cool-rockin’ American depression dog married to a 10,000-year-old soulful witch who plays first base." And that makes you a lucky man. My favorite so far!
"I hear her laugh a little and she doesn’t try to hide it, and it adds years to my life, I think." That's the ball game right there, an essay in a single sentence. You did it last week with "The day is coming and nothing can stop her." Keep 'em comin'.
Hollywood should be so lucky to create someone like you! U scrappy heartthrob!
My son is 13 now and still playing local and travel ball. You capture t-ball perfectly. They could tether Wonder Dog from the friggin Macy's parade on top of the tee and BAP! They would still hit the doomed plastic holder.
And those damn uniforms are the worst part. Getting up on Sat. to travel to God's knows where Waze takes my hung-over ass, its the uniforms that get you. Where is the other sock? Where is the in-house hat? No ! Not the travel hat! I'm getting sweaty just thinking about it.
And why do they assign white pants to the players? Mine son's are instantly covered in Wawa entrails on the way home from distribution . I tell him to slide in the dirt during warm ups and BP to make up for my lack of interest/skill in bleaching.
Anyway, thanks for this. It really resonated .