26/02/2025
HEY HONKERINOS! AN UPDATE.
Several new written pieces are in the works and at least one will drop at HonkJournal.com in the days to come. Thanks eternally to those Honk Plus supporters hanging in there while they gestate.
As a much younger person I thought it was funny that there was a stripe of writer called a "memoirist," as to my way of thinking, once a person had written their autobiography, what was left to tell? But then, as a teen, I fell into the Beats via Jack Kerouac, whose many novels are each drawn from his own experiences. Hunter Thompson popped up for me around the same time, too, and had a similar effect on my thinking: Though the work of these authors is fictionalized, and not really direct memoir, it still illustrated to me how a person could make a whole life out of just being open to a wide range of human experience, and then writing it down to share with others.
I'm now nearly a decade older than Jack was when he died (and about a decade younger than HST), and surely have lived through at least a dozen distinct periods in my own life. I have stories miles deep, and any time I worry the well may run dry, I flash back to a long-packed-away recollection of something that unlocks a complete set of memories, like finding one's childhood set of baseball cards perfectly preserved, if perhaps a bit yellowed, in a closet in the old family home. I have material to last a lifetime of writing.
Perhaps counterintuitively, the passage of time adds flavor and color to these stories, as when I describe the world I grew up in back in the 1970s and '80s, it looks and feels vastly different from the one my young sons occupy today. All my stories have been rendered period pieces. I'm working on one right now about the four years I spent as an adolescent, delivering the local small-town newspaper six days a week on bicycle or foot. That used to be a de rigeur first job for kids, but now I'm not sure it even still exists at all. "Like sands through the hourglass..."
At any rate, I just want to let those of you who follow my work — especially those who support it with paid Honk Plus membership — that I forever appreciate your interest, your feedback, your kindness and your love. I struggle a lot these days, and you legitimately help sustain both my will to keep on going and literally my ability to remain housed. I can never ever thank you enough.
With love always,
MC
PS: Here's a piece I published one year ago this week, regarding the sad demolition of my childhood bowling alley. Enjoy!
You can't roll home again