The Homebound Symphony

For quite some time now I’ve been frustrated by the experience of writing here at the ol’ Homebound Symphony.

(open in new tab to embiggen) The house my father grew up in is also the house that I grew up in, through age 12.

Yesterday we buried my mother in Hopewell Cemetery, Hanceville, Alabama.

This is Dolores Jeanette Harrison, who was the smartest girl at Cleveland High School in Cleveland, Alabama.

Many of you know how much I love The Walter Martin Radio Hour.

I’d suggest listening to this song while reading this post — it’ll help you understand the point of my use of italics.

I am indifferent to the debate about what LLMs can or cannot do.

There’s not a strict correlation between the presence of a figure in my writing and his or her presence in my mind.

John Crowley has died, one of the finest and most distinctive American writers of our time and the author of Little, Big, the best fantasy novel this side of Tolkien.

Now, I do not know whether Auden is to be considered as an English or as an American poet: his career has been useful to me in providing me with an answer to the same question when asked about myself, for I can say: “whichever Auden is, I suppose I must be

SID: So Joseph has done – well, just a whole lot of good work for us in the past.