Favorite: Mom, Dad, and Me

 

There we are in the old house, the only house I really knew with mom and dad.

Uncle Bob took the photo, drawing forth the smiles and laughing.

Thank you, Uncle Bob.

Dusty Heroes

 

Rereading Again: Adventure!

 

1978: SCUBA Training

 

Salt Point, CA.

Dad had my back.

Rereading Around, Again

 

In these two stacks, vertical and horizontal, you may find three or, perhaps, four books in my top 25 books of all time.

Frost.

Howden Smith.

Renault, certainly.

20 Years: Hey, Dad, I Like Remembering You This Way

 

1990s wedding photo for an uncle.

My father is the bright white-haired man in the collarless white shirt and tweed jacket.

He hated wearing ties.

I still wear that jacket to teach in at times.

I like to remember him at this age, early 60s.

He died in 2004 at age 70.

Today is the 20th anniversary of his death.

Farewell, father.

RIP.

Your son,

Matt

Profile Pic: Mythic

 

Old Clay:

figure exercise with model, 25 minutes or so.

Tea with Tinker

 

Sausalito Morning

 

Stack Love + Clay

 

Lady Sunshine Thursday

 

Profile Pic

 

4/4/2024.

Recovering from migraines and a self-haircut.

Lady Afternoon

 

Old Clay: Puck in Repose

 

Before the glazing.

Not sure of the year.

I did catch the trickster sleeping.

Lady!

 

Tinker, Lately

 

Memory Lane: U-Boat Commander

 

Captain, Grumpy

 

Hi Dad: Good Memory

 

1996, I think.

Seaside. After a stormy and wet charter fishing trip out on Monterey Bay.

Dad and I were skunked in ever-drenching conditions, and Dad was always prone to seasickness.

Fish courtesy of a kind cousin.

Still counts.

Alter-Ego(s)

 

Singular or plural?

Perhaps one more than another?

From left to right:

Tyr of the AEsir;

Robin Hood (or Chaucer's knight's-yeoman);

and Unferth Blatthersbane.

Just saying.

Bran Mak Morn, Fafhrd, and the Gray Mouser: Rereading Around

 

I have been rereading these stories since 1973 or so.

Lady, Indeed

 

Tinker Tuckered

 

Happy Birthday, John McPhee

 

Essay-topics for The Control of Nature.

No Story Without Lines: A Poem

THERE IS NO STORY WITHOUT LINES

The lines on your face.

The lines on your hand.

The lines in the sky.

The lines in the sand.

The lines you wished you'd said.

The lines you wish you hadn't.

The lines that link

The lines that block

The ink that stains

The keys unlock

The lyrics to the tune

That refuses to stop

The lines you plow

The seeds you plant

The times you harvest

And the times you can't

No stories without lines.

No lines without time.

Too much, too little -- time.

So many many lines.

So many lines you waited in

To reach this place, this time, this state:

This fractured fissure where --

Against fault, against fail --

You can begin to tell the tale.

-- Matt Duckworth

Comfort Reading

 

Rankin Rebus

 

Ian Rankin, like any good authors, knows things worth sharing.

IDENTIKIT

"Pukwudji, that's the name -- the trickster -- I wanted to remember!"

Time for a rereading:

Charles de Lint's MOONHEART.

Photo:

Medieval/Renaissance and Classical texts, Moonheart,

class props, and clay friends.

Book, Glass, and Cat

 

Adam Nicolson's "Sea Room";

Bushmill's

Lady.

Comfort Food

 

Pork cutlets and vegetables in a stew.

My mother's favorite double-base pan.

Good memories every time.

Roll Call: Morning

 

Luck Conspired With Fire Here

 

Pit-fired mermaid.

First pit-fired experience, ages ago.

Ocean Beach, SF.

Whisky with Lady and My Favorite Book

 

Edradour, which sounds Hobbitish, don't you think?

Hail, Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins, Captain Brandybuck, and Thorfinn the Mighty.

Lady and Tinker