Why have we evolved to the point of needing to choose between our liveliness and our happiness? What sort of world have we made for ourselves? I read the news today—a mistake I don’t often make. As I sat in a coffee shop filled with a dozen perturbed souls—working on god knows what, or at least making a pretense of it—I thumbed through the pages of the local paper someone had left on the torn leather seat beside me.
A few good friends of mine (all fine writers) have put together an anthology of short stories and have published it as an e-book. The stories are brilliant, although I may be biased. The anthology provides an intriguing insight into human relationships and place. The place, in this instance, being my fair city–Wilmington, NC.
The book is titled Pabst Blue River, and is the first volume of the Cape Fear Chronicles (of which I hope to see more soon!). The book is available here. If you have a few dollars and are looking for a good read, I recommend giving it a look. Plus, you’ll be supporting up-and-coming authors, much like many of us.
I made this.
It is my work–it is wholly me.
But I give it to you.
Let this be my lasting contribution.
Does this count?
Is this enough?
If I can put my hand to anything before I leave,
please let it be this.
Please let me share it.
This is my surrendering–
will my words bear the weight?
Of all the things I haven’t said,
or needed to and didn’t,
or tried to and failed.
Will my waiting end forgive me
for all I have not done?
If the world stops here,
then, in this moment, I have succeeded.
I have indulged this strangest of love affairs–
to what end I do not know–
but I have found it all worthwhile.