It’s the second book of his that I’ve read. The first one was Fay, a novel. Billy Ray’s Farm is a collection of essays and non fiction.
The writing is lyrical, smooth and graceful. Passages that are haunting, brutal, and overflowing with the author’s feelings cut into my heart and head.
Harry Crews has this effect on me, as does Faulkner and Flannery O’Connor.
What is it about the South that breeds such amazing artists?
I don’t think it’s the land itself but who knows. It’s as much a mystery as is the wealth of their talent.
I think about writing every day yet have been able to do so for some months now. Looking back I think maybe my father’s death contributed to my sliding off the rails a bit. My ‘coper’ broke and an inability to concentrate, take care of mundane daily tasks or find motivation for the things which made me sing died.
Note: The dust hasn’t settled over dad’s passing and as of two weeks ago I’m no longer speaking with my sister or my step-mother. More on that in another post.
My daughter arrived from southern California last night. She’s 14, 15 in August, and will be with me for a little over a month. I’m flying her back here again at Thanksgiving and again at the holidays. Then I’ll have to wait until next summer and hopefully three months then. If she doesn’t decide to stay here with me, which I doubt. She’s been with her father for a little over a year and seems settled there now.
Thus far I’ve seen Cate for about 20 minutes. Her friends here in Reno have consumed her time already. Several of them had taken a bus to the airport to meet her at the plane, unbeknownst to her or myself. Waiting for her plane to land a familiar gang of teens surround me, resplendent in their teen Goth glory. They had all taken a bus out to the airport.
I fed them pizza and cokes and her best friend spent the night.
This morning I took the two of them to Zephyr Books. Afterward Cate announced that she was going to another friend’s house to have pink (or purple) streaks put in her hair and also have that friend use her ‘professional piercing kit’ to pierce another hole at the top of her ear.
I rolled my eyes and said “Okay. This should well.”
In 15 minutes I’m off to pick the little demons up at the Starbucks down by the Truckee River, across from the movie theater.
Then I’m taking best friend back to her house.
Cate wants to watch Shawn of the Dead tonight and eat popcorn and candy. Sounds like a plan.
Goddess only knows what tomorrow will bring but it’ll surely be interesting.
Hormonal Outsider Teenager + Angst = Rachael’s Interesting Summer.
If only I could put my thoughts into the kind of writing which lifts me up. Maybe my favorite authors will send a muse over in dreams tonight.
I can hope but better yet I can start writing again.