Remember the Summer Blowout sale we did in August?
I can’t believe how much my hair has grown and changed since then. (I’ll share pics when we get back from vacay.) Nor can I believe ‘somebody’ failed to inform Google of an end date for the sale so guess what?
Yep! All of the titles are still at crazy low prices. How low, you ask? So low it’s a good thing the awesome daughter is picking up the tab for the cruise.
Oh well, let the good times roll and Happy Fall Y’all.
If you have ever visited/lived in the Texas Coastal Bend you know how charming it was… how charming it will be again!
Yes, Harvey wreaked havoc, destroyed homes, businesses and even lives but he did not break the spirit!
There was so much more to photograph. There were weary folks still digging through the ruble, swatting at mosquitoes and pausing to cry. The locals and volunteers shared kinship and friendship and displayed such gratitude for the simplistic things; basic items like trash bags, bug spray, and gloves – things we tend to take for granted on an average day.
Sorry, I did not have the heart to pick up a camera in those seconds of pained expressions amidst devastation – the ones that make for cover worthy photos. I simply lived in the moment and tried not to infringe upon their privacy or their grief.
This is the fourth consecutive year I have been honored to be a judge in the FAC annual teen scholastic/literary/poetry event. This year was even more exciting because I am still alive and it was the first reason I have had to shuck my pajamas since last year. Just kidding! But seriously, FAC added a short story contest. Yay!
A little aside: Forney Arts Council hosts the annual event but an invitation to participate is extended to several surrounding cities. Just FYI Forney is a booming little town about a stone’s throw east of Dallas Texas.
Some of them receiving their first check for following their passion.
I am so proud of every single one of them. I know their parents and teachers are too; and the fabulous lady (Tiffany) with a passion for art that keeps this thing going.
Hold on, there is a point to this post —
What was it? ….
Oh yes, Help!
I need your help. It won’t cost you a dime and only a minute of your time.
What? Why? How? You ask?
Well, you see I am scheduled to give a talk/presentation next month on the art of the short story. Actually it is The Art of the Short Story & Micro/Flash Fiction.
The problem (other than the typical butterflies) is I know why I read and write short stories/flash fiction but I would love some input as to why others do.
Is it attention span? Time constraints? Challenge? Amusement? Something else?
If this thing works right I have inserted two polls, one for writers and another for readers. If not… the comments section is always open.
It seems Edgar Allan Poe was born an orphan and subsisted as a lonely dejected urchin all his life. His father David Poe Jr. abandoned his mother Elizabeth early on. A couple of years after his disappearance Elizabeth Poe died of tuberculosis; all before little Eddie was three years old.
A couple named John and Frances Allan took Edgar into their home and fostered him until adulthood or the age of eighteen. At 18 Poe joined the United States Army under the alias Edgar A. Perry claiming to be twenty-two years old because he could not [reportedly] find gainful employment
Tick tock tick tock.
Frances died and Poe was disowned by John Allan—the men had been at odds for some time. Poe did not turn out be the man Allan expected and Allan turned out to be a man Poe despised. One could not abide the other’s vices. That is my summation.
Poe had problems. He drank too much, dreamed too much and lived with depression. That’s undoubtedly obvious.
Tick tock tick tock.
Poe married his first cousin Virginia when he was 26, she was half his age. Yeah, and after a decade of harmony guess what? January 30th 1847 she died of tuberculosis.
Alone again and in failing health Poe became increasingly unstable. On October 3rd 1849 he was found wandering the streets of Baltimore bedraggled and in a state of delirium. Four days later on October 7th 1849 Edgar Allan Poe died in hospital. Alone.
From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were – I have not seen
As others saw – I could not bring
My passions from a common spring –
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow – I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone –
And all I lov’d – I lov’d alone –
Then – in my childhood – in the dawn
Of a most stormy life – was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still –
From the torrent, or the fountain –
From the red cliff of the mountain –
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold –
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by –
From the thunder, and the storm –
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view –
The official cause of death is not recorded, perhaps it is not known. Speculations abound. Alcoholism, tuberculosis, syphilis, encephalitis, concurrent disease, murder…
All I know is this: He was only forty years old and was (like most of us) his own worst enemy. Despite his inner darkness I think Edgar Allan Poe managed to shine a light. I pray he is not alone and that the demon no longer hinders his view.
His remains are buried at Westminster Hall Church in Baltimore, Maryland.
This post was intended as part of Wordless Wednesday but I have to say this. I do not/did not expect a public response but in last weeks Write Your Own (A Poem & A Picture) Sarah replied with a beautiful piece blending the poem and the picture. I must say it was a very pleasant surprise. I understand many of us are timid about publicizing our words/thoughts; potentially exposing ourselves to ridicule but if any of you would like to make your take of the photo in the reply section I would love to read it.