Nobody's creekbed

songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations

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The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

He spent years working on what was to be a kind of final statement, his literary master-work. How was he to know that someone else at that very moment was also working on a tome entitled The Little Red Book?

History forgets most of us, disregards the rest.

In a tiny bookshop, beneath a pile of dusty Playboy magazines, lies a tiny red piece of the rest of the story.