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The Disappearing, Re-Appearing Mountain

8/31/2021

First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is .
― Donovan, "There Is a Mountain"

For the past two weeks Afghanistan has loomed like a mountain in the American consciousness. But prior to the fall of Kabul on August 15 and the subsequent nonstop images of the storming of the Kabul airport by more than a hundred thousand desperate people trying to escape, when did any of us last give a thought to Afghanistan? A year and a half ago when Donald Trump ceded to the Taliban and promised to remove all American troops from Afghanistan by May of 2021? Last May when one Afghan military post after another began surrendering to Taliban forces, villages and towns along the way falling like dominoes?
Or wasn't the last time Afghanistan was a mountain in our national mentality actually twenty years ago, after our country was attacked by Al Qaeda, which operated out of Afghanistan?
After 9/11 Afghanistan was huge, news of it was constantly in our eyes and ears. We thought about it, we talked about it. Then a year and a half later the United States invaded Iraq and Iraq became the mountain, while Afghanistan disappeared even though our military continued waging a simmering war there for the better part of two decades.
Until two weeks ago. Now Afghanistan is a mountain again, but America's war there ended yesterday and so it may not be long before Afghanistan disappears again.
Oh, and does anyone know where Iraq went?

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The Case Of The Sunflowers And Inattention Blindness

8/28/2021

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THE CASE OF THE SUNFLOWERS AND INATTENTION BLINDNESS

Last week a friend of mine, a dedicated emergency room nurse who spends long, stressful, exhausting days on the COVID-19 front lines in Columbus, Ohio, texted me and a few other friends a photo of a field of sunflowers.

Beneath the picture my friend wrote, "Check out beautiful sunflowers in Gahanna Granville Street. Take a drive and get pics. Share pics. Let's keep up our spirits."
Upon receiving my friend's picture I thought, Wait, what? There's a sunflower field on Granville Street and I didn't know about it?"
Granville Street is the main thoroughfare through my town of Gahanna, Ohio,

...and is also the route from downtown Gahanna to downtown Columbus and other points east, south, north and west where I don't often venture these days. These days I don't often venture much of anywhere beyond the supermarket.
That being said, it's not as if I haven't driven down Granville Street at least a handful of times over the summer. So why did I never notice the sunflower field growing in downtown Gahanna?
I chalked it up to a phenomenon called "inattention blindness," which occurs when something passes before one's eyes which one is not expecting to see, therefore one does not see it. A corollary of this concept was expounded upon in the movie "What the #&*! Do We Know?"

...in the fable of the Native American Indians on Caribbean Islands who did not see Christopher Columbus's ships on the horizon because, supposedly, people can only see what they believe is possible.

Not that I wouldn't believe that a field of sunflowers growing between the buildings in downtown Gahanna is within the realm of possibility. It's just that in all the years I'd been driving up and down that stretch sunflowers had never gown there before and nobody told me there were any growing there now, so I wasn't expecting to see any, and so I didn't see any. I guess.
But, whatever, I decided to take my friend's suggestion and go see the sunflowers.
As I live not far from Granville Street I decided to walk. And notice things along the way. And snap pictures of the things I noticed.
Hamilton Road

Big Walnut Creek

Gatsby's, a popular local watering hole

Some nice clouds over the Dairy Queen.

Rocky Fork Creek

When I reached Granville Street I kept my eyes peeled, though I even worried that, by looking too hard for the sunflowers, I might somehow miss them. Overattenion blindness, perhaps.
But no, probably from my constant scanning for the sunflowers and my firm expectation of seeing them, I caught sight of their yellow heads far off in the distance:

Do you see them?
Look on the left side, just a little beyond that gold car.
Here's a closer shot:

The little sunflower field had been planted between a small strip mall,

...and the parking lot of an abandoned bank building.

But it was nonetheless delightful.

There was a sign naming this sunflower oasis Little Mammoth Meadow, planted, according to the sign, by Start A Seed.

I don't know who the individuals behind Start A Seed are, but I would like to thank them, and also to thank my friend for opening my eyes to the sunflowers growing on Granville Street. And, as my heroic friend requested, I'm sharing my pics. May we all keep our spirits up.

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The Fog Of War

8/24/2021

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THE FOG OF WAR

The United States could have treated the terrorist attacks of 9/11 as criminal acts masterminded by Osama Bin Laden and put our resources into capturing him and his accomplices instead of plunging into what turned out to be a decades-long war with Afghanistan that is ending in a costly, dreadful defeat that has degenerated into a terrible human rights crisis.

But on the other hand, if the U.S. had not invaded Afghanistan after 9/11 that country might have subsequently turned into a haven for emboldened Al Qaeda terrorists who might have launched more deadly attacks.
After the defeat of the Taliban regime by U.S. forces in November 2001 Taliban leaders offered to surrender peacefully in exchange for amnesty. Had the United States accepted the terms of the Taliban's surrender instead of insisting, in the words of Donald Rumsfeld, "We don't negotiate surrender," and demanding Taliban members be captured, imprisoned or put to death,

...then the Taliban wouldn't have fled for their lives to hide out, regroup, recruit, grow, and keep fighting.
Unless the Taliban opted to flout the terms of their surrender and continued to hide out, regroup, recruit, grow, and keep fighting anyway.
Spending twenty years and $300 million dollars a day trying to transform a tribal, disparate, geographically rugged country like Afghanistan into a modern, Western-style democracy now looks like a fool's errand. Except that in those twenty years of American occupation of Afghanistan the citizens of that country gained access to internet, iPhones, social media and news outlets. A whole generation of young Afghans grew up in a society with some degree of civil liberties, especially women and girls,

...who under Taliban rule had been forbidden to go to school, to work, to appear in public with their faces uncovered and, in some areas, to leave their homes unaccompanied by a male relative.
Is Afghanistan's past under Taliban rule to be its future under Taliban rule? Or will the modernization and liberation of Afghan society that was achieved by twenty years of American protection and defense ultimately force the Taliban to bend? And what presence, if any, will terrorist groups have under the new Taliban regime?
How long after that day in October of 2001 when U.S. troops invaded Afghanistan did it become clear to those with knowledge of such matters that withdrawing those troops would be disastrous? Was it clear after five years? Ten years? Was it clear soon after the day George W. Bush started the war? Or just two weeks ago when Joe Biden ended it? Did Obama know, and is that why he avoided bringing American troops home after their mission of killing Osama Bin Laden was accomplished? Did Donald Trump know, and is that why he and his Secretary of State Mike Pompeo negotiated with Taliban leaders (but not with the leaders of the Afghan government) a withdrawal, the terms of which required the United States to concede everything but required nothing of the Taliban in return - not the continuation of Afghan women's rights, not safe passage out of the country for citizens, not the return of American military equipment - nothing, except the Taliban allowing the retreat of U.S. troops from Afghanistan?

And did Joe Biden know, and is that why he has toed the letter of the Taliban's terms that were agreed to by his predecessor Donald Trump? Even as Biden learned that Taliban fighters were capturing Afghan military posts along with the American weapons provided for the Afghan army, did he not dare to send in more American troops to retrieve our equipment because he knew such action would be the equivalent of kicking a hornet's nest? Did he know that facilitating a mass exodus of Afghan civilians in advance of the American pullout - something Biden had been warned against doing by Afghan President for fear of Taliban reprisals - would likewise enrage the Taliban?
Did Joe Biden lie awake at night knowing that his decision to be the one to bring American troops home from Afghanistan and finally end this forever war could be politically disastrous for him? What voice told him that it fell to him to accomplish this mission?

And, bad as the situation is in Kabul is at this moment, how do we know that, with the Talban holding all the cards and calling all the shots, a different plan of action, a more aggressive evacuation plan, might not have caused the situation to play out even worse than it is now playing out?
Today there are only two things that are unequivocally true about Afghanistan.
The first is that there was no way the United States could have saved this country single-handedly, and the abandonment of the Afghan people by both their government and their military guaranteed that the evacuations would play out at least as badly as they are at this moment, if not worse. On the other hand, if it were the Afghan army surrounding Kabul airport instead of the Taliban soldiers, the scenes we would be seeing from that place would be much different.
And the second thing is that twenty years later it is the Taliban who now have the option of saying to the United States, "We don't negotiate surrender."

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The Lesson Of The Toothbrushes

8/22/2021

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THE LESSON OF THE TOOTHBRUSHES

The day before yesterday I was at Target,

...picking up some household provisions.

I happened to be in the toothbrush aisle at the same time as a woman and a little boy who appeared to be around six years old; presumably a young mom and her son.
"We don't want to get an electric toothbrush because the people might not have batteries," I heard the mom say to her son. "Here," she said, "you can pick out five nice toothbrushes from over here." Which the little boy then proceeded to do.
I continued my shopping and I expect they continued theirs.
Now, this short story is, perhaps, not particularly memorable. Chances are the little boy won't even remember the day his mother took him to Target and they bought five toothbrushes. But I got the impression that they were buying the toothbrushes not for themselves but for people who needed toothbrushes. Maybe they were going to donate them to a food pantry, or through their church or some other charitable organization. Or maybe they were buying the toothbrushes for someone they knew who was in need.
And it occurred to me that even if the moment soon fades from the boy's memory, the lesson of that moment will stay with him, for this is the kind of lesson that a child unconsciously absorbs from their parent: in this case a lesson in thoughtfulness, in generosity, in caring for the needs of others.
True, buying a toothbrush for someone who needed a toothbrush was only a small lesson, but it was perhaps just the right size for a child.
So thanks to that mom and her little boy in the Target toothbrush aisle. You thought you were only giving toothbrushes. You also gave a bright spot to my day.

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Hooray For The Infrastructure Bill! Boo Hiss For Andrew Cuomo.

8/11/2021

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HOORAY FOR THE INFRASTRUCTURE BILL! BOO HISS FOR ANDREW CUOMO.

After a steady diet of dreary news these days, COVID-19 spreading like the wild fires burning up the West, climate change broiling the planet, another tropical storm brewing in the Caribbean, finally, finally, finally some good news, and this man-made: The United States Congress came together, Republicans and Democrats kissed and made up - if only for a moment - and passed the $1 trillion infrastructure bill. Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles.
All right, so maybe $1 trillion isn't enough to tackle the vastness of our infrastructure woes. But it's a start. Billions will be spent to repair bridges and roads, to modernized those of our airports that have fallen into disrepair, to update and functionalize our electrical grid for renewable energy sources. There's funding for rail travel, broadband internet expansion, and the restoration of lakes and waterways from sea to shining sea.
What's not to celebrate?
And what's not to celebrate that for the first time since who can remember when, Democrats and Republicans - even Mitch McConnell, for crying out loud - got on board together, worked together, to get something done for our country?
True, this was only a one-time event. But who knows? Maybe they'll find that they actually liked working together, liked all those productive meetings, constructive phone calls, dynamic late-night dinners. Maybe the satisfaction of being part of a historic accomplishment will induce them to try working together again sometime. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.
In any case, the at long last infrastructure plan is today's good-news headline.
Or should have been today's good-news headline. And would have been if not for Andrew Cuomo, the governor who threw away a career of great accomplishment with both hands when he used those hands to grope and otherwise sexually harass the women who worked in his his office. Such is the stupid behavior that goeth before a fall.
I'm not unhappy that Andrew Cuomo resigned, as he should have. But, really, did he have to do it on the same day as the infrastructure bill was passed?! I mean, what got the headlines this morning?

So, couldn't Cuomo have waited until Wednesday or Thursday to resign? Did he have to do it on Tuesday and suck all the oxygen out of the big infrastructure news? Or was this maybe his way of getting back at Joe Biden in Biden's moment of victory, since Biden, rather than taking Cuomo's part, suggested that he resign?
On the other hand, I suppose there are almost a dozen women out there for whom this morning's headline couldn't arrive fast enough.

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Milo Arts

8/8/2021

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MILO ARTS

...Continued from yesterday:

This past Friday night Theresa and I were at 934 Gallery, part of the arts campus known as Milo Arts located in the downtown Columbus Milo-Grogan neighborhood for the opening night of "Gridlock," the installation of artist Elizabeth Nelson (See previous post, "Gridlock" by Elizabeth Nelson: "The Only True Thing About Art Is That It's Deception.")

During the course of the evening I got into a conversation with a couple of members of the friendly gallery staff, Liz, President of the Milo Arts Board of Directors, and Susan, a volunteer and mother of one of the the Milo Arts artists..
Susan, left, and Liz, right.

Though I already knew that there was an artists' community in the Milo-Grogan neighborhood, I wasn't familiar with the scope of the campus. Liz and Susan, however, were my cordial guides to all things Milo Arts.
Liz enlightened me on the provenance of the ubiquitous wall murals, a current exhibit of the winners of a juried competition.

The murals will be painted over when the time comes for the next 934 Gallery exhibit, "Home."

However the Milo community is currently in the midst of preparations for the upcoming 934 Fest, the gallery's annual outdoor arts and music festival and fundraiser.

Liz gave me a tour of the Milo grounds and the showed me the buildings, used for exhibits, classes, recording, and storage,

Canvases for an up-coming mural-painting class.

She gave me a run-down of some the features of 934 Fest, which will include artists, among whom will be thirty-seven muralists who will turn the walls of these buildings into "Mural Alley."

There will also be musicians, comedians, word performers, yoga, a high school mural class, food trucks, and a giant sculpture erected between these two buildings.

After my tour with Liz, Susan took me across the way to have a look at the building where the Milo artists live.

The Milo artists' community house is a former school built in the 1800's for the children of the Milo-Grogan neighborhood. In the 1980's the building was transformed into an artists' colony, an affordable space for artists to live and work in community.

There is a community garden tended by the residents,

...and a little park for the resident dogs,

...and sculptures around the yard.

It all had a very vie bohème look.

We retuned to 934 Gallery, and Susan invited me to come back sometime for a tour of the interior of the artists' building.

I just might.

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"Gridlock" By Elizabeth Nelson: "The Only True Thing About Art Is That It's Deception."

8/7/2021

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"GRIDLOCK" BY ELIZABETH NELSON: "THE ONLY TRUE THING ABOUT ART IS THAT IT'S DECEPTION."

Last night my daughter Theresa and I met at 934 Gallery in the Milo Arts area in downtown Columbus.

Theresa

We came for the opening of "Gridlock," the new show by Elizabeth Nelson,

...Columbus visual artist and grade school chum of Theresa's.
Gallery 934 was once upon a time an auto body shop, now repurposed as an exhibit space.

Though a number of works by local artists are on display,

...most of the gallery's main wall space currently exhibits the winners of a juried mural competition.

Some of the pieces of the murals are for sale and can be removed from the piece,

...which accounts for the blank spaces in some of the murals.

Elizabeth Nelson's exhibit is an installation located in a room off the main area.

The pieces of the installation are black and white squares of mixed media, though constructed mostly of plexiglass and plastic.

While were perusing the exhibit we ran into another old friend of Theresa's, the artist's sibling J.L.

A pose for old time's sake.

When I was able to corner Elizabeth I asked her about her installation.
Elizabeth, a graduate of the Art Institute of Chicago, explained that the concept of Gridlock originated visually for her from the space itself: The glass block window,

...and the fireplace bricks,

...got her thinking about immovable squares and gridlock.
Most of the floor pieces and wall pieces are the same principle: The squares are divided into rows of two,

...rows of three,

...rows of four,

...and so on, with the number of squares per row increasing while the size of the squares decreases, until the smallest subdivision of the most squares numbers 27 squares per row.

The floor squares are made of etched plexiglass,

...some the wall hangings are of plexiglass,

...some make use of fishing line, as well,

...and some are painted plastic.

The purpose of the different materials was for variation on the same theme.
As far as what that theme might be, Elizabeth explained that it's emotional. It's about when we're breaking things down to smaller and smaller and smaller parts, but that's all we can do. And so no matter how much we keep trying to break a thing down, it's still never right, we're still in the same square, we can't move on. We're gridlocked.

Theresa and I then got into a discussion with Elizabeth of ways in which the work might be interpreted, or how it spoke to us. We talked about a futile quest for perfection, about obsession, or even an ADHD-style need for persistent repetition.

Theresa brought up that plexiglass could be a symbol of the gridlock our lives have been in since the COVID epidemic: plexiglass dividers everywhere we go have become a part of life.

For me the black and white color scheme resonated, which probably isn't too surprising. considering that black and white seems to be a motif that somehow runs through my life.

In the midst of this discussion of what "Gridlock" may or may not mean, Elizabeth brought up an interesting observation: the deception of art.
For example, art is deception when it transforms three dimensions into two, as in a still life represented on a flat surface. As for the deception in "Gridlock," the way a light is shone on something or the angle from which you look at it may cause misunderstanding: the plexiglass may look waved, or like strips of ribbon:

The fish line looks stronger than it is because what we are seeing is not the fish line, but the shadow it casts.

We see images in the floor that are only reflections.

She also told us that the the "furniture" on her exhibition announcement picture was really just small pieces that she'd made from paper and bits of wood, that the background was paper, and that the shadows were painted on.

"The only only true thing about art is that it's deception," Elizabeth wryly noted.
But what beautifully thought-provoking deception.
If you live in the Columbus area then come to Milo Arts and see Elizabeth Nelson's "Gridlock." It's good to have your thoughts provoked.

To be continued...

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Blogger's Block In The Time Of Plague

8/6/2021

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BLOGGER'S BLOCK IN THE TIME OF PLAGUE

The other day I was talking to a friend who had just returned from a trip to Iceland. She'd had a wonderful time and described for me the details of her experience: the volcanoes, the waterfalls, the hot springs, the hikes, the food, the fresh bread and pastries, the midnight sun, the shaggy wild ponies, the puffins, the beluga whales, the pervasive serenity of the place.
I was thoroughly enjoying hearing about my friend's trip and seeing the wonderful images in my mind,

... when somehow, into the conversation slithered the subject of COVID. That was the end of puffins, ponies, pastries, and all the other Icelandic charms and the return to the same old depressing talk of sickness, virus, contagion, mutations, variants, hospitals, ventilators, fear, worry,

...not to mention aggravation with the millions of people in this country, where the COVID vaccine supply is copious and free to everyone, who by their refusal to be vaccinated are keeping the pandemic alive, kicking, spreading and mutating.

It was after I hung up with my friend that it hit me: This is the way it always goes. Every conversation, no matter where it starts, always ends up at COVID. Call a friend, a loved one, anyone, and whatever your reason for calling, COVID will eventually seep into the conversation. Anyone you talk to about anything at all, small talk, deep talk, meaningful talk, meaningless talk - it's not even that COVID is the fall back subject like, say, the weather; it's that COVID it the fall to subject; all talk will eventually fall to COVID.
This is because COVID has not only infected the lungs of the afflicted but the minds of everyone. And how could our minds not be infected? You can't look at a newspaper or go to any any news outlet without being hit with the latest COVID update.

You can't turn on the radio to hear the news without COVID being the top story.
I don't feel like blogging about COVID all the time, but if one is chronicling contemporary life, then one is chronicling COVID. COVID pushes aside the rest of life, hogs the stage, demands to be front and center. So my blogger's dilemma is this: write about life, which means writing about COVID, or try to ignore COVID and write about something else, which means not writing about life. But then I expect that's how it's always been for recorders of daily life in times of plague. I guess it's no wonder that I'm often fighting blogger's block these days. I guess it's no wonder I've been fighting blogger's block for the past four-and-a-half years.
It's just one #$%! plague after another.

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Revisiting My Scarlet Letter

8/2/2021

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REVISITING MY SCARLET LETTER

I recently found myself shuffling through some old posts in search of some pictures of my kids playing their musical instruments when they were young.
In my rummaging I came across a post I wrote back in November of 2014 in which I admitted that in my parenting heyday I would have fit the description of an Artisanal Parent (for that description see post from 11/4/2014, "Artisanal Parenthood?"), another term someone thought up to malign contemporary parents who are just trying to raise their children, and to add to the already sizable compilation of purported bad-parenting styles, such as helicopter parenting, attachment parenting, free range parenting, tiger mothering, snow plow parenting (which feeds the need to plow all obstacles out of one's child's way), permissive parenting, authoritarian parenting, and including a classification I made up just for myself: Saran Wrap parenting. A Saran Wrap parent is one who sticks to their kids like Saran Wrap. That was me. My kids were always trying to peel me off.

Anyway, I thought today I'd share that old 2014 post in which I humbly confess to having been an Artisanal Parent as well.

MY SCARLET LETTER

11/5/2014

Claire, who liked to practice al fresco, in her grandparents' backyard.

Continued From yesterday:
    It's just occurred to me who this elusive artisanal parent, censured by psychologists and mocked by parodists, actually is.
    It's me.  I'm the original artisanal parent. I must confess. I’m the prototype.
    Had the current parental labeling system been in place when I was on the child-raising circuit I probably would have had to walk about wearing a big scarlet "A" for "Artisanal Parent".
    I breastfed (and breastfed and breastfed) my babies, picked them up whenever they cried, co-slept with them and carried them until they weighed almost as much as me.
    I memorized all the current baby and child care books and could tell you how many rocks per minute were the ideal when rocking a baby to sleep. My mother thought I was nuts. A lot of people thought I was nuts.
    I learned how to cook and bake from scratch, sewed clothes, drapes, slipcovers, Halloween costumes and doll clothes and crocheted blankets, scarves and hats.
    I was a thoroughly disreputable housekeeper and cleaner. I still am.
    I put on classical music and Broadway show tunes for my children to listen to. I didn’t bother with potty training, assuming they’d figure it out by the time they entered college. (They all did).
    We had no television. Which is probably a story in and of itself
    My children all started music lessons before they started school,

…and were soon playing little ensemble pieces together.

   Vowing always to tell my children the truth and never try to convince them of something I didn’t believe in myself, I didn’t tell them that Santa Clause was a real person who brought them their Christmas toys. They always wanted to go sit on his lap at the mall anyway.
    I was a totally hands-on parent, a hybrid of attachment parent, helicopter parent, snowplow parent, tea cup parent, and tiger mom, and I was always up in my kids’ business. ‘Way up.
    For which I suffered as much approbation as a modern-day Hester Prynne.
    Teachers would croon over what a pleasure it was to have my children in their class then lecture me on how I had to stop being a such a smother mother. (I made up that word but that's what they meant).
    My children’s music teachers would comment on how pleasant, cooperative and mature my children were during their lessons then chide me for hauling their instruments and music around for them.
    Other parents would joke that they were going to send their children to live with me so they
could learn how to behave then tsk that I was perniciously over-protective when I wouldn’t I let my kids do what they allowed their kids to do.
    But the fact was that I often didn’t allow my kids do what everyone else was doing. It was my philosophy that kids didn’t need to see and do it all before they reached puberty.
    Sometimes I concluded that people thought that my kids were great but that I sucked.
    But the thing is, I truly did embrace parenting as a career, and one that I wanted to excel at. Between graduating from college and becoming a parent I had worked as a telemarketer, youth activities director, crafts instructor, interior designer’s assistant, art therapist, historical archivist, and senior citizen’s lunch program director, but it wasn’t until I became a parent that I felt I’d found my true calling.
    I remember once being at a play date with several other stay-at-home moms. The subject of work came up and the others talked about how they planned to go back to work when the children entered pre-school or kindergarten or first grade. And all the while I was thinking, not me, girlfriends, I hope to be set for life right here!
    But of course being a stay-at-home artisanal parent, while it may be a calling, isn’t in truth a career, as I learned as my chicks one by one flew the nest. I began teaching piano lessons. And writing.
    But on my heart I still wear my scarlet letter.

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Available on Amazon

​​THE CASE OF THE SUNFLOWERS AND INATTENTION BLINDNESS

Available on amazon

​THE FOG OF WAR

​THE LESSON OF THE TOOTHBRUSHES

Need a good read?

​HOORAY FOR THE INFRASTRUCTURE BILL! BOO HISS FOR ANDREW CUOMO.

GET IT WHILE IT'S FREE! Today, AUGUST 8, 2021 "EQUAL AND OPPOSITE REACTIONS" is FREE ON KINDLE

​MILO ARTS

​ON AUGUST 8, 2021 "EQUAL AND OPPOSITE REACTIONS" WILL BE FREE ON KINDLE

​​"GRIDLOCK" BY ELIZABETH NELSON: "THE ONLY TRUE THING ABOUT ART IS THAT IT'S DECEPTION."

On August 8, 2021 "Equal and Opposite Reactions" Will Be free on Kindle

​BLOGGER'S BLOCK IN THE TIME OF PLAGUE

Available on Amazon

​​REVISITING MY SCARLET LETTER

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THE CASE OF THE SUNFLOWERS AND INATTENTION BLINDNESS

THE FOG OF WAR

THE LESSON OF THE TOOTHBRUSHES

HOORAY FOR THE INFRASTRUCTURE BILL! BOO HISS FOR ANDREW CUOMO.

GET IT WHILE IT'S FREE!
Today, AUGUST 8, 2021
"EQUAL AND OPPOSITE REACTIONS" is FREE ON KINDLE

MILO ARTS

ON AUGUST 8, 2021
"EQUAL AND OPPOSITE REACTIONS" WILL BE FREE ON KINDLE

"GRIDLOCK" BY ELIZABETH NELSON: "THE ONLY TRUE THING ABOUT ART IS THAT IT'S DECEPTION."

On August 8, 2021
"Equal and Opposite Reactions" Will Be free on Kindle

BLOGGER'S BLOCK IN THE TIME OF PLAGUE

REVISITING MY SCARLET LETTER