M.A. Harper's Blog, page 3

Damaged Stuff

It's too hot to blog. But also too hot to do anything else, so I'm writing and sweating and hoping my air conditioning doesn't go out. It's running day and night like a mad thing and I can sense its exhaustion. If it had any sort of robotic intelligence, I'd feel sorry for it--something I  Read More 

Damaged Stuff

It's too hot to blog. But also too hot to do anything else, so I'm writing and sweating and hoping my air conditioning doesn't go out. It's running day and night like a mad thing and I can sense its exhaustion. If it had any sort of robotic intelligence, I'd feel sorry for it--something I

Losing Terry Pratchett

There'll never be another Terry Pratchett.

I've read all of his Discworld novels at least twice. When Hurricane Katrina hit here almost ten years ago, among the few things I took with me after I had to flee were two Pratchett paperbacks. They helped see me through. Yesterday's news of his passing hit me

Crisis?

Seems to me I remember hearing somewhere--I don't know if I have this right--but didn't somebody once say that the Chinese word/pictogram for "Crisis" is the same as the one for "Opportunity"? Cultural lefties yammer away in yoga classes and Whole Foods, quoting (or misquoting) gurus and holistic authorities on every conceivable subject without

Waiting for Heat Repair

Not as catchy a title as WAITING FOR GODOT, but I haven't had my coffee yet. And if Godot actually shows up here, he'll be useless unless he's toting along some heating-system parts. My little floor furnace has an iffy motor. One that keeps getting stuck. So it requires replacement, of course. During the

This Autumn

I'm back. I think.

What a summer/autumn this has been, not all of it troublesome. But action-packed, and whenever I see too much action, my blog here gets short shrift. Time and solitude are what it feeds on, just like a novel. The thing is, there's also a new novel out, sorta. Available in

Living In The Moment

The weather's just too spectacular for me to stay inside writing. The sun's shining, the humidity's low, and my house is a prison. I'm giving myself permission to go outside and enjoy the day. Writing will happen when it happens. When the heat comes back, or the rain. I could always take the laptop with me and write from my back yard, but guess what? Ain't gonna happen. Not today.

Skylights

"The darkest hour is just before dawn." --What utter tripe. A useful-enough observation, if you're speaking allegorically. But in the real world, where there's a physical sun coming up and radiating its light all over the place before actually popping past the horizon, this is bullshit. The hour before dawn is...disgustingly well lit.

Men and Love

I've never been very upfront about the men I've loved, because most of them have been inappropriate. Embarrassing. Either by their sheer unavailability, or sexual preferences that did not include me, or relationship status (which didn't include me, either), or all of the above. This isn't to say I was never asked to marry

Commencement

Loyola University here in New Orleans held its 2014 commencement in the Superdome yesterday. I was there, astonished by the drama. I've been to only one other college-graduation ceremony in my life--mine--which was a pretty much cut-and-dried affair. No special lighting, no big screens, no theatrical backdrop. Just the Class of 1971 in the