Memoir Notebook is a monthly column dedicated to longer creative non-fiction works. Today, Wm. Anthony Connolly is cutting onions. Or is he?
As I sip a dark red vanilla rooibos in a Seattle teahouse and type these words, I am feeling rather smug. Today is Hug an Author Day. Already, I have hugged fourteen dead writers (via Facebook, of course. I didn’t exhume them or anything. That’s just creepy). I have also hugged five living writers, among […]
My entry into poetry did not happen in a night. Oh, sure. It may look that way. One day I was calling poetry “cryptic nonsense” and practically the next, posting a lengthy poem on Facebook about lumberjacks, kitchen knives, Twinkies, and the persuasive powers of semi-colon eyelashes. Now, she’ll never take the credit for it—no, […]
You could say I’m playing around with writing a sonnet today, as long as your definition of “playing around” is broad enough to include tapping aimlessly on my desk to The Guess Who’s Bus Rider. Our Canadian columnist Matthew Kreider loaned me one of his famous Ticonderoga pencils this weekend. It keeps a terrific desktop 70s beat, […]
I found Paul Chowder at the Tip O’Neill building. He was in the passport office cajoling the bureaucrats into renewing his travel documents just days before his departure to Switzerland for some big international poetry doings because he didn’t realize he’d expired. I was there for my once-a-decade passport renewal even though I had no […]
When my parents brought me to the emergency room for the second time in as many weeks, they worried that, even in the 1960s, my sudden susceptibility to injury might raise suspicions of mistreatment. I already wore Raggedy Ann-like black stitches on my face after a mishap involving a swivel chair, coffee table and locked […]