You are what you eat. It’s an idiom kids in the 70s grew up with that made us think about the kinds of food we put into our bodies. But something has happened since then that is negatively affecting all of us and causing us to turn away from our core instinct to survive. We’re eating more processed food than ever. And why not? It’s cheap. It’s convenient. And it’s absolutely pervasive in America. It’s also is filled with toxins…
I was raised at an early age by my mother and grandmother. Surrounded by sisters. Now I’m married with two daughters and a mother-in-law who lives in an apartment over the garage. I’m a good father. I know this because I care. I openly love. There are no secrets between me and my daughters. I’m a good father because I have a reference point, two actually, to what it’s like not to be. But mostly I’m a good father because…
All my life people have considered me crazy. As a kid it was because I thought differently than others. Which is to say I had bad thoughts. Insane thoughts. Thoughts that put me in the hospital for evaluation. As an adult I ended up wandering from place to place living life through a book of lies in order to fit in to my surroundings. Then I quit drinking and suddenly everything was ok. Except, the crazy ideas didn’t disappear. They just…
I started writing a novel last October, after hitting a wall with a play I was working on. The idea for the play was (is) really solid, but I was focussing so much on scenes and sets that it became tedious, and so I put it down. Putting the play down, however, didn’t mean that the creative energy just disappeared. I’d had an idea for a book for a few months, and decided to push my energy in that direction to…
Across the sky the ravens glide between dark and twisted boughs. Constant companions at this mountain retreat. Evil muses who grab my attention and pull me in the wrong direction down a path of lies and a pile of bones of writers who came before me. *** Jim Mitchem
As you may know, I’m leaving home to finish my book. Part of me feels terribly selfish about doing this. It is a fear that says I’m not doing my part to help my family move along this timeline of life that we all hack our way through every day in America. That I’m letting them down by going off to play in the woods with the muses. And for what? Nothing. To scratch a creative itch. This isn’t about…
