Sippican Cottage

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A Man Who Has Nothing In Particular To Recommend Him Discusses All Sorts of Subjects at Random as Though He Knew Everything

Many Heavy Posts Are Turned From Mast Remnants In Seaside Towns

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It is a very curious thing to live among the shades as I do. I am not elderly, and I am not a reactionary. I have always lived among them. The granite graveyards of words; the workhouses of sixteen on center.

The lapidary lines; the tangle of tangents and whorls; even the typeface is instantly recognizable to me. It is supposed to be utilitarian, and dry as a dissection, but they cannot help themselves. It is beautiful, and invested with souls — blasted into them from the structures they represent and leaking out of their mechanical pencils onto the paper.

Many heavy posts are turned from mast remnants in seaside towns. For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn.

I smash the three dimensions into two, and back again, all day, every day. Wood or words; makes no nevermind. There’s no right click on real life.

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