 Review: En Route Author Jesse Wolfe by Julie Carpenter En Route is a slim poetry collection about what it might mean to be human, whether it means anything, whether the meaning of life is created through intention or is simply distilled experience.
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 The Ghost in the Machine Father Brown Review by Crow Carpenter Note from Julie: Sometimes Crow watches television and I watch him watching television. Sometimes I'm bored enough to take pictures and videos of him watching videos. This is how I've been affected by isolation. It could be worse. Uncle Morty is trying to learn the bagpipes and Jarad was last seen wrestling a large vine and calling for a machete. On the other hand, if you are taking the time to read this maybe you shouldn't judge us. Anyhoo...here's how Crow felt about the story of a haunted painting, a love story gone wrong, and a secret underground tunnel.
 Jon Nakapalau trust blackcurrant nights my heart could not follow trust
is the hardest thing to forge yet easiest thing to break.  New Place, New Plants! by Jarad Johnson I recently moved into an apartment, and there is a distinct lack of landscaping here. There’s a few weeping holly’s and some poorly trimmed hedges - don’t even get me started on that! Who trims a hedge when it’s going to winter damage? Fools! - but that’s about it. Of course, I’m not lacking on indoor plants -it’s a jungle in here- but outdoor plants are what I prefer to deal with. I’ve got a balcony to work with and some railing at the front door, and I’ve already got some plans for that- lots of planters, vines and endless other plants are on my buying list this year. Rosemary, lavender, moonflower, black eyed susan vine and heliopsis are must haves. Lilies and clematis and a lemon tree also. I’ve already moved some very pretty (and very heavy!) stone planters up the steps near the front door, so that’s likely where I’ll start. I’ve also got a large pot earmarked for a rose and some spilling annuals.
 Glamour Shots by Naomi Ulsted This week we're lucky to have a piece by a fantastic writer, Naomi Ulsted. Glamour Shots is a delightfully funny and poignant look back at a time when hair was tall and glamor could be had for about sixty dollars and a trip to the mall. Enjoy!
***** I had spent my morning fantasizing about the UPS guy. He had thick dark hair and a natural smile, and he usually arrived at the office around ten in the morning. While booking reservations at La Quinta hotels across Texas for the children’s theatre show I worked with, I made sure I was in the front office in case he was just running late. After lunch, I gave up and was in the back room reorganizing our costume box, when I heard the door open. I draped my sparkling green witch costume over an office chair and darted to the front, ignoring my office manager’s disapproving look. She didn’t care for me bolting in or out of rooms. She pursed her lips as I slugged back Gatorade, suffering from after effects of an evening dancing down on Sixth Street. It was only a salesman selling Glamour Shots from the mall. So maybe I bought them because I was consoling myself about the UPS guy. Or maybe because the office manager sniffed with disdain as I reviewed the package; a sitting that included makeup and dress for up to three people and one eight by ten print, all for a flat rate of sixty dollars. I handed over my credit card.  Morbid Magic Author, Tomás Prower by Jarad Johnson This is a book that I’ve been meaning to read for some time. If you’re a long-time reader of the blog, you’ll know that Julie and I have no problem discussing death or the topics that relate to it. People call it morbid; I call it healthy. To me, it’s important to come to terms with the fact that your death is going to happen. Not that I’m encouraging you to speed up the process, of course, but accepting your mortality brings a sense of peace. So many things we do are motivated by our fear of death. Why fear something you can’t avoid? As the saying goes, “no one makes it out alive.”
 What Is the Worth of a Human Being? A Writing of Uncle Morty Yes we've published this before. But it seems like a really good time to publish it again. Your old Uncle Morty is old and tired and dead, though not without the empathy that remains in the empty brain and abstract heart of anyone who has ever worn a suit of flesh. His previous embodiments leave him still puzzling as to why the living seem to value the miracle of being human so very little. Even when they can be led to believe that they themselves might have some intrinsic value they seem always unlikely to give that benefit of the doubt to others. I will give you a few scraps of reasonable advice that I myself found when I walked among the living. It was expressed by two of the best men I have ever known, Kilgore Trout and George MacDonald. |
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