i’m cued up at the Sparrow. the best coffee shop in Orleans. today, the line’s out the door. every summer the Sparrow functions as my default office. it’s where i take calls, figure estimates, write, and, this morning, it’s where i’m busted by Sharyn. read more»

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it’s late morning when i finally leave the Sparrow parking lot. I pick up a fresh water bottle and note pad, park the truck at [tag]Barley Neck[/tag], and hike around the edge of the [tag]marsh[/tag]. when i was married my wife and i would come here, throw down a blanket in the tall grass, a bottle of wine … today, it’s warm, the dry grass crunches under my feet, and i’m alone. read more»

i’ve always loved the rain. when I was a lad I would dream of the rainy season. I’d picture myself in a thatched hut with a beautiful, bronzed-skinned girl. She’d swat mosquitos from her [tag]naked breasts[/tag]. I’d angrily pound the keys of a rusty Underwood. I was writing the great American novel. Hemingway would weep. read more»