No TV or computer, only a piano and an old manual typewriter. All relationships were real: family, neighbors, friends; our chickens and our dogs. This was life on the farm in the Eighties before we moved to Oregon. Writing on paper, tapping out lines, learning songs on the piano. Working on the farm and in the garden. Glad when someone came by. Glad when they didn’t. And now — yes, […]
I finished cleaning the library. Once again, the internet has come to feel like an albatross around the neck of this ancient mariner. The room measures about nineteen feet by twelve feet. The way the shelves are arranged, there are small rooms within the room, little private corners. This laptop also feels like an albatross. You’ve read Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner, I hope, and seen the accompanying artwork […]
William Michaelian 