jpaulgorman

we were floating, anchored, and not thirsty. the day was in full glory. baited, the fish seemed sleepy and apathetic to our advances. an hour earlier we had dropped in, without incident, on the eastern side of white river lake. plenty of room as the resurgent lake of 19% capacity loomed ahead. the truck and trailer parked, we sped off in full engine-thrusting splendor. ready to slay the hated, but loved, catfish. blue cat. channel cat. any cat. catfish duncan had made some chum and we sped over to our initial locale and he milk-jugged it into the water. less messy as he went along. the promise was catfish. the irresistable, almost mystical, allure of this rotted chum would bring the fish to us. big wally's finest. almost seemed unfair when duncan explained how it worked.  "basically, i was told give it thirty minutes.", he claimed. "we got all day boys. we're gonna eat good tonight. hawkeye, you got a hushpuppie receipe?" "shut up catfish. you don...

     the first thing i noticed at the airport was the t-shirts. what compels the need to send a message, no matter how witty or bland, on a t-shirt? 'cold beer', 'class flirt', 'Anna', swoosh, 'only God can judge me'. either it's meant to distract other humans or attract other humans. maybe it's a subconcious, modern day, form of community. i saw one with manufactured pink kiss marks all over it.      my own electric blue microfiber nike golf shirt rendered me off the radar and part of the older community. almost invisible. however, it held a small degree of distraction itself and a full day of travel will always attract my most comfortable clothes. just as well. old is good. it means you've lived, experienced, failed, succeeded, and overcome. you are here. whatever here is. anything past 33 is bonus time anyway. Jesus never saw 39 going on 40.  of course, time measurements are confining for us. for now. really, a day is like a thousand year...

My roots extended deep into the Texico land. As the great great grandson, great grandson, and grandson of cotton farmers and cattle ranchers, the Fitzgerald’s history with the dirt was well known. Mud and dust were overcome, conquered, and left behind but the steely resolve remained as the recent generations toiled in other areas. The technology and financial services industries were attacked with equal stubbornness and single mindedness. My generation of Fitzgerald’s had fathers and mothers who helped lead the urban migrations that transformed the economy of Texas during the last decades of its American association. The current resurrection of the once, and now, mighty agricultural industries brought a comforting satisfaction and peace to all who shared the benefits and burdens of the Fitzgerald past. My corporate financial background and influential charge into the culture wars of the 20teens uniquely positioned me as a valuable ally and advisor to every Texico president since the bi...

The paper he held in his hand was meaningless. The proposed partnership was just another attempt to draw the country into a legal mire. Long ago the country refused to acknowledge the high court’s of other nations. And they no longer respected many of the nations themselves. The President’s chuckle masked a deeper frustration. Politically, he was being pressured to enter into alliances, treaties, and agreements with the persistent neighbors to the north. The ties that bind ran deep. Families, businesses, and traditions shared by the two countries were centuries old. The money was also centuries old. However, the memory of the struggle to regain independence was fresh in his mind. Although bloodless, the five years of bitter transition from the lone star state to the lone star nation was hard fought in courtrooms, boardrooms, media outlets, and foreign nations. Enemies were forged and rivalries were born. One can only speculate when the point of no return was reached, but it was reached...

As you can see, I've run into the dead end of writing. But why a dead end? Maybe it's a start, middle, and finish over and over. Whatever it is, Francios Mauriac, via Shake, once quoted, "Every novelist ought to invent his own technique, that is the fact of the matter. Every novel worthy of the name is like another planet, whether large or small, which has its own laws just as it has its own flora and fauna." He won the Nobel Prize. Back when one earned the praise. Welcome to this place. I will be inventing my own writing technique.