Ta-Da! Eighteen Months of Free-floating Angst Gives Way to . . . A New Project
/I plan to celebrate its tenth birthday by publishing a new final chapter. An addendum, if you will, to the book.
Read MoreThe BA and The Very Big Very Horrible Big Beer Merger. Plus A Look At The Future.
/(Oh, oh! I know! The BA’s annual Craft Brewers Conference can include seminars in how to conduct internecine warfare!) (Kidding, people. Kidding.) (Sort of.)
Read More
Craft Brewing? What's That? Who is "We"?
/But in those early years, the passion for fine beer was as powerful as the passion for profit. For Charlie and the other pioneers, beer wasn’t widgets. Beer had heart, soul, and complex intelligence, and when treated with respect, returned the favor by fostering camaraderie and solidarity.
Read MoreOn Aging: Old Lady. New Tricks.
/By god, this old lady probably won’t overcome her phobia, but she’s still capable of learning a lotta new tricks.
Read More
About Nothing At All
/I will go to Denver and enjoy myself. Both going and there. Moment. Moment. Moment. I will. I will it?
Just finished reading a c, 1955-ish British detective novel. French seaside-ish escapade involving the bright young things (most of whom are not young. The novel feeds on international drug rings, post-World-War II. Families. Normalcy. Not normalcy. Drugs. Etc) A tale centered on a cult. [Sexual, no less And thus even more off, given the decade.] French accents and illuminated goats. Delightful!
Anyway: I've launch a one-woman cult. Le cult de sociabilitiee.
To Denver I will travel (by train, insists the great goddessgodhead of this cult) (whose inner workings I do not yet understand. It's all a gag, you know?).
Both the going and doing, I shall enjoy. (And, even, I promise, even the return. Which does not yet bear pondering. My cult handles only so much at once. Please!) Enjoy and rejoice and talk to others.
And celebrate that there's anyone, anywhere! with whom to talk.
Because that ain't nuthin', people. It ain't nothing.
A pox on the dystopian fervor that, these days, taints damn near everything.
Move on, people! The late summer and early autumn sunsets are still pinkish golden blue. Days shift from light to dark and so we all wake another day and . . . move toward joy. So I hope.
To Denver I go. Train travel! Signing books. Talking (the tough part). Eating. Drinking. Etc. There's a conifer collection in Denver! Did you know? I want to see that, too. 'Afore that train moves on.
I will travel. I will celebrate the pinkish golden sky.
Love and The Actions That Speak Its Name
/There I stood there, gasping for air, gasping with sobs, and apparently making a lot of noise (I say apparently because I’d not realized I was making any sounds).
Read More