Jonathan Carroll's Blog, page 84

CarrollBlog 5.24

Last night I was reminded again of the great, long lasting power of books and it was a very heartening experience. The school where I taught for many years is having its fiftieth anniversary. Lots of gatherings, parties, memories this weekend as the tribe from days past assembled. I went to one of these events and talked for hours with old students. Again and again they said things like, "I'll never forget that book we read in 10th grade," or "Reading ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE in

CarrollBlog 5.22

Leaving the subway station, I see two men standing nearby. One of them is an old gent with a large bouquet of roses in one hand, digging in his pocket with the other. Finding what he wants, he takes it out and hands it to the other man who I now realize is shabbily dressed. He must have asked the old guy for money. Saying thank you, he touches his forehead in deference. The old man nods and turns away. As he does, he lowers the bouquet to his side. After a few steps, one of the beautiful long ro

CarrollBlog 5.21

Rock Tea

by Gary Gildner

At a hot springs in Sawtooth Mountains

8,000 feet above the level sea,

my two-year-old daughter enters the steamy shallows, and sings

I'm naked! I'm naked! And clings to herself

as if the pink body under her slender arms might slip away.

I do not want her to slip away, not ever,

but I know one day she will. I know

one day she will put on her snow boots

and take up the trail in earnest—and I will call out

I am happy for her, very happy, but sad too,

and h

CarrollBlog 5.20

I've got a new short story entitled "THE STOLEN CHURCH" in the latest CONJUNCTIONS magazine. As you can see from the table of contents and the theme of the issue, there's lots of really interesting writers at work here.

http://www.conjunctions.com/justout.htm

CarrollBlog 5.18

Vienna is full of streets large and small named after notable Austrians. The famous mathematician, musician, Social Democrat... Walking by one of the streets this morning I thought okay, I lived a life full of accomplishments, awards, acclaim. After dying I look down from my cloud and see that the city I chose to live in honors my memory by naming a street after me. On that street are a crummy pizzeria, an Indian restaurant that never has any customers, a video store where most everyone going in

CarrollBlog 5.13

The beautiful woman is running to catch the bus. She looks wonderful-- her chic clothes flying, hair all over the place, a kid's smile ear to ear. Will she make it? It's going to be close. I think she even has her tongue sticking outside her mouth a little, like a girl trying her damndest to win a race in fourth grade. As soon as she steps on the bus though everything changes. Her cool returns, her hauteur. The humor goes away, the delight. Her face is only beautiful again. I wonder if her partn

CarrollBlog 5.12

That's the power of books. We live lives that are not our own, and in doing so, discover things about ourselves and others that we might never have known, or have forgotten.

Karie Hoskins

CarrollBlog 5.10

Two women are standing together in front of a store window. It looks like a mother and her early middle aged daughter. Then I see the daughter holds the long white walking stick of a blind person. She's gripping the other woman's arm and her head is tipped down. She is listening intently. The mother appears to be describing what is in the store window. The daughter keeps smiling and nodding her head as if she grasps each detail. Both of her mother's hands are flying around and about, part of her

CarrollBlog 5.8

La Strada

by George Bilgere

A dollar got you a folding chair

in the drafty lecture hall

with a handful of other wretched grad students.

Then the big reels and low-tech chatter

of a sixteen-millimeter projector.

La Strada. Rashomon. HMS Potemkin.

La Belle e Ie Béte, before

Disney got his hands on it.

And The Bicycle Thief, and for God's sake,

La Strada.

You can't find them

at the video store anymore. Only the latest

G-rated animated pixilated computer-generated prequels.

That's jus

CarrollBlog 5.7

While walking to a cafe this morning, I had an idea for a new short story I'm working on that made me very excited. I think that is what I like most about writing-- coming up with an idea and knowing soon you'll sit down and try to translate your excitement for it into hopefully as-exciting words or scenes on a page. The beginning of THE WOODEN SEA happened like that: I was standing at a cafe one day drinking coffee when a bum lurched by outside wearing a hideous leather jacket and a canary yell