William Lobb's Blog, page 3

Looking Out My Window

I’m suffering from a form of writer’s block today. That’s pretty unusual for me. I can always think of something to write even when it’s not very good. I’ve been struggling all day, trying to distract myself. I even went up to my old tool barn and just sat there looking for inspiration. For a […]

October 1965

It was October ‘65, and it was a cold night with no moon. My father had died the previous April, and I was still pretty pissed off about that, and all that went along with fathers dying. I didn’t like people feeling sorry for me, and I started to like fighting a lot. I’d stopped […]

A Visit With My Father

As the summer sadly wanes and the air picks up the northern chill, I think of my father and the Mid-December day I last visited him. The year’s last month, the coldest and darkest time. A pall thrown over those days, a poverty of light and warmth, the bare trees and dried leaves whisper of […]

One of my favorite characters from my book, The Berry Pickers and a free preview link

“There was one month in one summer what I felt me any good at all, there was a girl. You remember the camps up the road. All them Jewish people from down in the city would come up here for the summer? Most was up in the Catskills. A couple was here. The nicer ones […]

Sixty-Six Summers…

 Remembering that first summer tasting the freedom of school as a memory, mine largely the stuff of night sweats. I spent too much time alone, trying to write songs on a guitar I’d never learn to play. Rock music had gone missing, presumed exiled in France with the Chuck Berry and The Stones. The […]

My Friend Dave

My friend Dave Castner is dead. As I age, news like this is more frequent. It’s sad news. It feels like a herd is thinning and I’m waiting on my turn. I’m drawn to a certain type of men for close friendships. Many of these relationships span three, four, five decades or more. They are […]

Big Joey And The Onion Fields

A hot day alright, and them flies were in my face before the sun rose over that ocean of black and green. The morning’s ever present smell of eggs frying and bacon grease burning, and diesel exhaust and onions rotting in the crate. The cook girl was pretty, not real pretty but pretty enough for […]

Remembering Royal H. Duck

These anti-depressants are kicking in with vivid dream-recollections as a twisted and kinky bonus. Like dirty fingers digging through rotted leaves and thin roots and twigs; wet dirt full of worms and the last century’s detritus. I walked up to the cemetery on this sticky and rainy afternoon. The old Hillside cemetery, the one next […]

Writing Prompts and Things of That Nature

We are working on another free book, a collection of essays, from 2016 to present. I’m not sure if I’ve evolved much as writer in the past seven years, I think, at best, I’m just grumpier. I enjoyed writing this piece, it was the foundation for the book The Truth Is In The Water. You […]

I Miss Record Stores…

For years, decades, I’ve heard the Beach Boy’s Pet Sounds was transformative. A classic that must be listened to. I’ve read about it being compared to Sgt. Pepper’s and Phil Spector’s wall of sound. Like a piece of 1960s art that had to be experienced and savored at least once whole and in its entirety. […]