Thanks, dear Sandra! I'm super appreciative of your support. Stackland is an entirely original means of publishing, earning a living, and attracting readers who want to sustain writers. xxL
There is a Baltimore Oriole who doesn’t eat seeds but is at my birdfeeder anyway. There is a Russian motorcycle guy who looks like a blonde Bob Seeger and has to clean his apartment before the visit from his Ecuadoran girlfriend or “She will just turn around and go back...” I suspect his perfume is WD-40. And there is a yogi who teaches a noon class at the Y. After that, we’re having a dragon bowl with grilled tofu and peanut sauce.
"...found nothing, and lowered her expectation of what a snack was. She would eat a piece of cheese or a single grape." I literally just lol'ed at a coffee shop!
Love, love, love your writing and the observations of life. I felt like the ghost of Joan Didion was writing. I love rereading her book, The White Album. I can get the cultural references. I miss the wild early 70s. Ah, memories!
I will say my journey continues at me now 72. Husband died, covid happened, I sold the home, and got rid of 98% of the stuff in it (don't miss a thing), packed my dog and too much stuff in my Prius and drove west. I'm loving Portland Oregon. I walk a neighborhood and marvel at the beauty of nature and absorb the energy of all the young(er) people.
Thanks, love. I really love your appreciation. The writing is never stream of consciousness, not really, not for a second. If it was, it wouldn't produce pleasure in you. It is all calculated, all weighed technique I experiment with. It's a trick the way all art is a trick. xxL
I'm terrified of being dead dead. And I don't have any children, and I'm positively gobsmacked by my age. My father is stumbling over steps exactly the way my grandfather used to, and I miss my grandparents more every year.
oh my, another gem—i got chills. you made me laugh at contemplating death, but i felt a genuine creepy prickle remembering hal singing "daisy." when i die, when we all die, i hope there will be a room where i encounter you again, frolicking with bonobos. xx
Thanks, dear Jill. If you are interested in coming to the next Zoom conversation on writing craft, email me, and I will give you more information. It's on May 25 from 3 to 4EST: lauriestone@substack.com
Really enjoyed this right. Your skill is amazing and makes it easy to read. The reflection it contributes a spot on that’s something we want to talk about or think about very often. We must accept and pray for the grace to move forward with it.
What a nostalgic piece! But walking the New York streets not even noticing time, as my walking Petersburg streets 30 yers ago... When we think or read about it, it gives such a pleasure even now.
What a wordsmith! I’m crazy about Laurie Stone’s writing—the skill, the truthfulness! I’m sharing this with all my writer pals.
Thanks, dear Sandra! I'm super appreciative of your support. Stackland is an entirely original means of publishing, earning a living, and attracting readers who want to sustain writers. xxL
Beautifully written. I especially love, "I used to walk around as if there was all the time in the world to make the same mistakes."
Thanks!
I can clearly hear your voice inside my head. It's nice to have someone else in there.
Happy to be there. Who else is in there? What perfume are they wearing? What are we having for lunch? xxL
There is a Baltimore Oriole who doesn’t eat seeds but is at my birdfeeder anyway. There is a Russian motorcycle guy who looks like a blonde Bob Seeger and has to clean his apartment before the visit from his Ecuadoran girlfriend or “She will just turn around and go back...” I suspect his perfume is WD-40. And there is a yogi who teaches a noon class at the Y. After that, we’re having a dragon bowl with grilled tofu and peanut sauce.
Cheers,
JT
Jesus, what a great party. I want my tofu now! xxL
"...found nothing, and lowered her expectation of what a snack was. She would eat a piece of cheese or a single grape." I literally just lol'ed at a coffee shop!
Good work. xxL
Love, love, love your writing and the observations of life. I felt like the ghost of Joan Didion was writing. I love rereading her book, The White Album. I can get the cultural references. I miss the wild early 70s. Ah, memories!
I will say my journey continues at me now 72. Husband died, covid happened, I sold the home, and got rid of 98% of the stuff in it (don't miss a thing), packed my dog and too much stuff in my Prius and drove west. I'm loving Portland Oregon. I walk a neighborhood and marvel at the beauty of nature and absorb the energy of all the young(er) people.
Wonderful to hear all this. Didion seems a strange comparison, but hey, who am I to know how I come off? xxL
How fabulous these pages! Pure, unadulterated pleasure of a fine, honest mind skateboarding through life.
When I'm asked why do you do what you do, I say, "I aim to produce pleasure." Thanks for seeing that! xxL
This is fantastic - and, I have always felt exactly the same about the chimps.
The only thing that distinguishes us from them is maybe better haircuts - and some of us don't even have THAT ... lol.
I admire the stream of consciousness vibe you always produce. Thanks again Laurie for a stellar, thought provoking read.
Thanks, love. I really love your appreciation. The writing is never stream of consciousness, not really, not for a second. If it was, it wouldn't produce pleasure in you. It is all calculated, all weighed technique I experiment with. It's a trick the way all art is a trick. xxL
I'm terrified of being dead dead. And I don't have any children, and I'm positively gobsmacked by my age. My father is stumbling over steps exactly the way my grandfather used to, and I miss my grandparents more every year.
We all are I can understand that
oh my, another gem—i got chills. you made me laugh at contemplating death, but i felt a genuine creepy prickle remembering hal singing "daisy." when i die, when we all die, i hope there will be a room where i encounter you again, frolicking with bonobos. xx
Me too! I hope it's not on Jupiter, though.
if there are bonobos, maybe uranus?🤪
Totally captivating. I get it about family. And pretending dying will be okay. Your slant is refreshing and unique. Kudos.
Thanks, dear Jill. If you are interested in coming to the next Zoom conversation on writing craft, email me, and I will give you more information. It's on May 25 from 3 to 4EST: lauriestone@substack.com
Thank you for being so funny, honest, and real. I love your writing.
Thanks for this tender comment, it means a lot!
What a pleasure to read!
Thanks so much.
Really enjoyed this right. Your skill is amazing and makes it easy to read. The reflection it contributes a spot on that’s something we want to talk about or think about very often. We must accept and pray for the grace to move forward with it.
What a nostalgic piece! But walking the New York streets not even noticing time, as my walking Petersburg streets 30 yers ago... When we think or read about it, it gives such a pleasure even now.
This was so perfect to read just now at the end of a long day.
Such beautiful writing. A very easy flow. Enjoyed it immensely.
Thanks! It means a lot.
Ah, you made me laugh when I needed it, my friend. And, there may bonobos in Vegas.