Author: Matt
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I Can’t See
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I am an equal opportunity disliker. I am underwhelmed by the species of which I am a part. Unimpressive, to say it mildly. I keep on learning not to have expectations — of any kind — of friends and family and the larger organisms that populate in masses all the…
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The Dragon at the Gate
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When I finished the last blog about Joyce, et al, I free associated to my profile on Myspace. At the end of the profile I cited Bertand Russell who said that religion is the dragon at the gate. A woman had surfed Myspace, landing on my site; she left a note which…
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The Continuing Memoir of Mt. Lemmon: At 17
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At 17 I was in a bookstore in Greenwich Village with my friend, Stan Edelman. It was 1957. In my hands I held a thick volume by a James Joyce (Finnegan’s Wake). I opened the book and I could not understand the first sentence much less the whole paragraph. It was…
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A Twist of Lemmonade
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I’ve been spending some time with Mt. Lemmon. Her ridges, her slopes, her rugged byways are festering, roasting, burning, as we watch from our condos and upscale stucco and adobe dwellings across the way from Catalina State Park, the preserve that borders Oracle Road which runs down like a larynx…