It’s been two months, since I first had the crazy idea of attempting to write something new, every day, for a year. Sixty days. Sixty stories. Sixty different topics. Six hundred and twenty-one tags. Forty-four thousand, seven hundred nineteen words.
And sixty grande Pike’s to keep me going.
Damn! That’s half a novel’s worth of work. That’s one mother load of a blog. And I’m not even close to being done. Done in, occasionally. But not done. I’ve written on more subjects I could ever have imagined, from aging to atoning. From beauty to books. The Caribbean to cycles. Distractions. Entertainment. And fantasies.
On googling. Health and history. From ignorance to intentions. Joy and love. From mischief to music and naturopathy. Politics and prejudice. Refining to rituals. Continue reading