Month: August 2017

A quick word on the title:  Norman Mailer, in writing journalism, often referred to himself as Aquarius.  Ted Williams, in conversation, referred to himself as Teddy Ballgame.  I think of myself as Novelistador.  So shoot me. Journal Entry, 9/31, 2017 Well, it had to happen.  After a week of clear skies and warm afternoons, today … Continue reading Novelistador Goes to the Library →

Journal Entry Wednesday, August 30, 2017   Last night I found serenity floating like a cork on a quiet lake.  Around 5:30 or so, Chief Worrall, Terry and I drove to Round Pond, about three miles from here.  The two of them got into a fishing boat and set out to catch nothing much, while … Continue reading Serenity and Progress →

Tuesday, August 29, 2017 Sam and I went to civilization last night, or at least to Colebrook. For the last 10 years, I’ve been going to a secret club, first in Nashua, then in Manchester, then in Nashua again (and in between in England and various parts of the US).  This club meets to review … Continue reading Secret Clubs and Replenishable Meat →

9:45, Monday, August 28, 2017 The adventure is truly beginning now.  I got in late Thursday night, so Sam and I slept in the box with just the battery electricity to light us.  Of course, because it wasn’t cold and all we were doing, after taking a walk and letting each of us pee under … Continue reading Bacon Today, Oatmeal Forever After →

Sam, the boxer/lab six-month-old puppy who's thrown in his lot with me, and I have landed in the Great North Woods to live in a Tiny White Box.  (If I'm not careful, another sentence like the last one--with its common words capitalized--will make me sound as if I'm living in the 17th century, instead of … Continue reading Silence, Silence Everywhere, and Naught a Thought to Think. →