Sunday in Meat Camp

 It's turned a bit cooler and breezier in these mountains.

It's been a week of terrible sadness for Israel and the entire world.

Another week of clown shows of politics from a bunch of Republican congressional members who care more about their own selfish self-interests than the good of this country.

And in a show of true selfish self-interest from me -

I Have a Terrible Cold

I have a terrible cold,
And everyone knows how terrible colds
Alter the whole system of the universe,
Set us against life,
And make even metaphysics sneeze.
I have wasted the whole day blowing my nose.
My head is aching vaguely.
Sad condition for a minor poet!
Today I am really and truly a minor poet.
What I was in old days was a wish; it's gone.

Goodbye for ever, queen of fairies!
Your wings were made of sun, and I am walking here.
I shan't get well unless I go and lie down on my bed.
I never was well except lying down on the Universe.

Excusez un peu… What a terrible cold!… it's
physical!
I need truth and aspirin.

(14.03.1931)

written under the pen name of, Alvaro de Campo

© by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

On the more positive side of things, I leave in just over a week for South Carolina.

Am I excited?  You betcha (considering the fact that I should be over this nasty head cold by then).

Before leaving, I have a busy week.

I have an appointment to have my hair cut and streaked.  

An appointment for a manicure/pedicure.

And an appointment with my closet and suitcase to decide what to take with me.  Since I'll be driving, the sky's the limit!  I can take as much as I want to.  Dresses and Shoes, oh my!

I also have an appointment with my kitchen.  

Donald and Annabelle will not be traveling with me, so I'll be cooking up a pot of spaghetti sauce for Don to enjoy while I'm gone, as well as making sure there's other things here he'll fix for himself.  And a few special treats.

In other good news, I loved waking up to see pictures of Travis and Taylor out on a Saturday night date last night. ❤

They are adorable.  

Now, me and my cold are going to curl up with a fresh cup of coffee and a good book.  

The book?

An ARC from NetGalley.

The next book by my pal Hank Phillippi Ryan, One Wrong Word.

Life is good.

Even with a cold.

Past Pat Conroy Literary Center Resident Writers

 So.  I may have mentioned . . .  😊 😉 

I leave for Beaufort, SC in about five weeks to be the Pat Conroy Literary Center’s next Writer in Residence.

I'm following some very impressive folks.

They are David Kiser,  Julie Cantrell,  Kathy Meadows,  Janna Zonder,  Robert Gwaltney, and  Heather Bell Adams.

Am i proud to join them in this honor?  

Absolutely as proud as I have ever been about anything in my life.

You can read a little about each of the past residents here.

While I do not know any of them personally, one of the writers on the list especially stood out because I read, and was stunned by, his book THE CICADA TREE.

Robert Gwaltney, in his amazing novel, gives us southern literature at its best, infused with a little magical realism, a lot of southern gothic, and truth as it is known in the south.

If you haven't read it yet, I urge you to pick it up.

In the meantime, if you'd like to taste a little morsel of Mr. Gwaltney's talent, I'm including a link to a piece he wrote for Southern Literary Review about his tenure as a PCLC Writer in Residence during November, 2022 while staying at MarshSong, which is the magical home of the selected residents hosted by the equally magical,  gracious Mary Ellen Thompson.

There's no resisting this essay with a title as delicious and as provocative as --

"LICK THE SHERBET SKY: REFLECTIONS OF A WRITER’S RESIDENCY” 

BY ROBERT GWALTNEY

Enjoy!