My mom continued her tradition of gifting me a rocker chick autobiography for Christmas. Yay, mom!
This lovely painting by Claude Monet is doing double duty today. My mom is opening a fabulous business (tea/coffee/desserts/books/art/events) in early 2020. I’m doing social media, among other things, for the store. I shared this lovely painting on our FB page a few minutes ago, and thought it far too nice not to do so here, as well.
WILLIAM LUCE, ‘BELLE OF AMHERST’ AND ‘BARRYMORE’ PLAYWRIGHT, DIES AT 88 [THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER]
Came across this book today…
I was so busy over the weekend, that I didn’t get around to wishing my favorite hometown boy a happy birthday. He was born on 8 December 1894, right here in Columbus.
Here’s a link to my article about the Thurber House (which I now live very close to, incidentally).
The French artist was born on 8 December 1864:
The doodle is by artist Ichinori.
“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”–The White Album
“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”
“I am a writer. Imagining what someone would say or do comes to me as naturally as breathing.”–The Year of Magical Thinking
- Redefining the Black Mountain Poets [THE PARIS REVIEW]
- Entering Infinity with Yayoi Kusama [THE PARIS REVIEW]
- Baltimore knows its Poe House is a treasure, but now it’s officially Maryland’s first ‘Literary Landmark’ [BALTIMORE SUN]
- Elaine Stritch’s Never-Ending Search to Get Her Due [LIT HUB]
I’m finally getting my new writing studio put together. As most of you know, our recent (okay, it was two+ months ago) move was ridiculous and awful. Unpacking things in my studio was pretty much at the bottom of the list. Better late than never, though. Here’s a partial view of the area above my desk.