Friday, March 16, 2012


I posted this photo here a few months back, but I wanted to share it again.

These are my horses, running around like crazy behind my house.

I moved here about 15 years ago, right after my daughter was born.

This suddenly reminds me of something: I turned on the news last night, and during a commercial break I caught this ad by Pampers (I think) about how rugged and dependable their diapers are... and they could prove it by leaving an infant in the care of its Daddy.

Everyone knows Daddies let their kids sit in their own piss-soaked diapers all day long.

What a bunch of bullshit, Pampers.

Ha ha... that's as witty as calling a graduate student a slut.

As a matter of fact, I was the first person to ever change my kids' diapers. And, by the way, I didn't use toxic earth-tumors made of paper and plastic. I used an organic cotton diaper that I also washed.

Yes... a Daddy who knows how to use a "washing machine."

I guess some forms of gender-bias are always going to be okay, aren't they Pampers?



But I got away from myself there.

Thinking about moving in to my house makes me remember my daughter as an infant here.

I think our space here has a lot to do with why I write so much. This place hasn't changed too much in 15 years. There are more people here now, but it is still quiet and open. It is 20 miles to the nearest supermarket or traffic signal, we kayak on our little lake, and can disappear on trails into the hills and not see anyone at all.

This space invariably works its way into my work. I think you can get a sense of where I live in the way I write and in the words I use. I think all writers -- whether consciously or not -- are influenced by and express themselves through their "spaces."

Some of us could definitely benefit by getting out into theirs more often.