Monthly Archives: June 2011
What Are You Reading?
Summer Plunges, 2011
I’ve just finished two books I thoroughly enjoyed, Kent Haruf’s Plainsong and Tina Fey’s Bossypants, for completely different reasons. That’s the divine pleasure of reading, of course. You can plunge into books that tickle, delight or trouble the manifold sides of yourself. I simply know, when I find a good read, that it was stupendous, and it makes me crave more.
My book pile is enticing me, and now that we have a sunny day, my hammock is calling me, too. This… Continue reading
Sacred Marriage
Gay Pride, NYC, June 26, 2011
A purple centerline ran down 5th Avenue when I pulled into NYC yesterday around 11:30 and police were setting up the metal partitions to corral the anticipated spectators for the Gay Pride Parade. People were already gathering and opportunistic street peddlers were hawking rainbow flags and leis. By the time the leading cavalcade of slow-moving, revving motorcyclists passed the Flatiron Building around 12:30, the sidewalks were packed with cheering celebrators. All people can now marry the ones they love in… Continue reading
Country Girl/City Girl
Books of Wonder, 18 W. 18th Street, New York
I’m going to the city. It should be nice. I’ve visited cities often enough that I don’t freak out about the traffic or get flustered by the onslaught of sensory input, but I certainly notice that it’s different from my quiet country existence. I prepare myself to see lots of people and tall buildings tight together. Exhaust and bakery scents will mix with the rainy sidewalk smell. There are likely to be limos and beggars, pretzel… Continue reading
How to Not Wait
Pure waiting can make a writer all snarly and resentful, and then plain kill her. I’ve done my share of waiting to hear from people ever since I first sent out queries to agents and hoped for positive responses. I waited to hear if they’d like my book, and then I waited to hear if editors would make any offers. Back then, my blood crawled on tiny sharp feet in my veins the entire time I waited, and trying to sleep at night was the worst. I… Continue reading
Dad
I’m feeling happy I grew up with a lot of daughter-dad love. Check out this gaze. Birthmarked is dedicated to my father, Thomond R. O’Brien, Sr.
Caragh M. O'Brien and father, Tomy O'Brien, Sr.
Powerless
When thunderstorms swept through Connecticut last Thursday afternoon, the sky darkened to an eerie green, rain plunged just outside our open windows, and sirens started wailing in the distance. Our electricity flickered once, then vanished for good, making the darkness more ominous and bringing the alien sirens closer. It was creepy, so we rounded up the family and decided to go out to dinner.
We had to take lengthy detours twice to avoid downed trees, but we ate well and expected the lights to be back on by… Continue reading