A classic horror novel made even better. Literate, dark humor peppers this popular tale of 60s hippies that has been selling since first published in 1992. Greater depth and additional twists add to the fun in this new author’s edition as ill-fated friends making their way between two oceans create their own ocean of blood. Literate, dark humor peppers this popular tale of READ MORE…
Nan has had to leave her peaceful home above what used to be the Arctic Circle for something extraordinarily old-fashioned: a physical meeting with someone in, of all places, a city. If she doesn’t contract a fatal disease first, she might just choke to death on the Rococo holography currently choking Manhattan. And why hasn’t she heard anything from her best friend, Trix? Must READ MORE…
Thanks to stellar advances in longevity, Earth is overrun by Baby Boomers well into their hundreds. Social Security being the stuff of history books, subsequent generations must find some way to put all those Boomers to good use…challenging since few have minds that have survived along with their bodies.But the silver lining is that few can complain about what some of those uses READ MORE…
Gorgeous, and born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, Veronica Hamilton has never had to interrupt her dreamy sentimentality to question her cultural snobbery or even whether or not that diagnosis of Asperger’s was accurate. But that was before her fabulously wealthy CEO husband framed her for the murders he committed. Now she’s fleeing across READ MORE…
A darling daughter of mine once remarked, “The last thing your parents teach you is how to die.”
What I had just told her, from the vantage point of my sixties, was that the day dawns when you no longer care what a particular part of your body looks like; you only care whether or not it continues to function.
What I told her more recently is that you learn, to a large degree, to no longer care about much of anything.
I’m not talking about depression; I have never loved life more. I’m not talking about insensitivity; I still care passionately about some things, like my children and grandchildren. But there’s a whole very-long list…lazily meandering off into invisibility as is slips over the horizon…of things that used to concern me deeply that I no longer even bother to notice.
Perhaps it’s death-row mentality. Does an inmate waiting for lethal injection worry about the paint chipping off the cell wall? Maybe it’s just so many decades lived that I’ve finally really learned when emotion is pointless. I can still engage in fiery, adrenaline-fueled, epic battle with the idiots who yet again failed to fix my laptop/washing machine/you-name-it, yet now I walk away…even if I lost that particular battle…in a state of complete calm, smiling softly when I hear a bird chirp, because, ultimately, I don’t give a shit.
This is, even if I am on death row, a freedom that slips me right through those bars and allows me to soar above it all.
