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Comes a Time

Welcome.  I guess it’s time to roll with the digital flow.  Woke up one morning to find the handwriting on the wall was Times New Roman, which was my first hint that I might just be a bit overdue for the twenty-first century.  So here goes. Use the overhead menu to poke around a bit.  Who knows?  Maybe you’ll find something informative or something amusing.  Stranger things have happened…trust me.  Above all though, treat it like a city sidewalk.  Late at night, walking the dog, in a driving rain, moving from light to dark and back, keeping one eye peeled for the heaved up sidewalk and the other on that gomer across the street screaming at himself and hey… keep your plastic bag handy.

If you’ve got anything to say, leave a note in the comments box on any page.  If it requires a response leave me an e-mail address and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.  If you don’t hear from me, check here.  The Boys will probably know where to find me.

4 thoughts on “Home

  1. I met you in front of the Cairns apartment building a number of years ago. I was the contractor building the beatiful swales outside your window. Are you going to incorporate those swales into one of your novels?
    Jade.

  2. Dear Gerry,

    You asked me to call you that when you and I many years ago were “presenters” at the Edmonds Writers’ Conference. I mentioned to you how poet Richard Hugo had written a crime novel, DEATH AND THE GOOD LIFE, something you said you didn’t know at the time. I later wrote a poem based on film noir (and dedicated to you) called “Poem Noir.” This piece appeared in the last year or so in SHENANDOAH, a now online-only literary magazine. (It used to be a beautiful print affair; I miss it being in paper.) The online version of the poem, alas, didn’t use the many italics I put in to indicate dialogue. If you ever wish to give it a look, I hope you’ll like the over-the-top, “private dick” lingo and puns. Best to you and your work.

    Cordially,
    Michael Spence (Mike)

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