A free-association scream (900 or so words of id-driven rage at addiction poured onto the page without editing or re-reading)

read more…: A free-association scream (900 or so words of id-driven rage at addiction poured onto the page without editing or re-reading)

Readers know I’m not a God guy at all, not real interested in whether the Big Joker in the Sky is paying attention. Still, I pray 50 or 75 times a day, saying the same prayer over and over and over: “Thank you, God.” For today, I’m going to amend that prayer to “Thank you, God, and please help Larissa find a way to want to find a path to sobriety.”

Van Morrison, the musical spy who makes grass spring from your neck, and melts your teeth

read more…: Van Morrison, the musical spy who makes grass spring from your neck, and melts your teeth

This Saturday – St. Patrick’s Day – Granite State of Mind is hosting its monthly tribute series at New England College in Concord where we will raise a pint of Guinness to the works of Van Morrison, as a half-dozen artists bare their souls to sing his songs. It’s free.

The existential void of the 3-year-old boy (or a trip down memory lane under the vast indifference of heaven)

read more…: The existential void of the 3-year-old boy (or a trip down memory lane under the vast indifference of heaven)

In short, these first memories tend to be snippets, little pieces of pre-story that have randomly stuck to the brain like sawdust to sneakers. Once folks have answered my question and returned from their fugue states, they often ask me about my first memory. Here’s what I tell them.

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