tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post4072286643567274210..comments2024-03-03T11:21:12.438-06:00Comments on The Mallard of Discontent: Obliteration Chad Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13219295562957353591noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-24501043637204977732015-04-21T22:43:06.303-05:002015-04-21T22:43:06.303-05:00Half-ass writer who hasn't been doing a helluv...Half-ass writer who hasn't been doing a helluva lot of writing lately...Chad Lovehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13219295562957353591noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-90704944491640049282015-04-21T22:42:33.687-05:002015-04-21T22:42:33.687-05:00Ha! Don't forget the wildfires. And killer hai...Ha! Don't forget the wildfires. And killer hail...Chad Lovehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13219295562957353591noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-72927154877042938012015-04-21T22:41:38.346-05:002015-04-21T22:41:38.346-05:00CG, your story mirrors just about every piece of l...CG, your story mirrors just about every piece of land I hunted or fished growing up.Chad Lovehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13219295562957353591noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-1248589389645333822015-04-21T22:39:54.010-05:002015-04-21T22:39:54.010-05:00Thanks, BJ.Thanks, BJ.Chad Lovehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13219295562957353591noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-40206370996103227112015-04-21T22:39:26.458-05:002015-04-21T22:39:26.458-05:00It's like it's an alien town. I actually g...It's like it's an alien town. I actually go lost walking around the OU campus a while back...Chad Lovehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13219295562957353591noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-53373294648607441022015-03-31T07:32:11.091-05:002015-03-31T07:32:11.091-05:00You probably know this, Chad, but this is really g...You probably know this, Chad, but this is really good stuff! Compelling. Nuanced. Almost like it was written by a real writer. Philliphttp://www.hog-blog.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-34232517927982825922015-03-30T20:45:48.387-05:002015-03-30T20:45:48.387-05:00Maybe a damn tornado will begin to rectify your me...Maybe a damn tornado will begin to rectify your memory. Then a fracking quake will open up a new pond in the rubble. And the drought will end and fill it in. Maybe. Crazy Uncle Larryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12268647910396467228noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-5059502480063792402015-03-30T12:18:16.395-05:002015-03-30T12:18:16.395-05:00Our house has an abandoned railroad line running b...Our house has an abandoned railroad line running behind it. For many years there's been a nice stand of nothing-in-particular volunteer trees behind our house; those have been our partial shield against the infringement of those plastic-sided houses that threaten us from the other side. I often hear bob whites peeping their distinctive song behind our back fence (which has been the squirrel highway), and we enjoy seeing the rabbits. The colors the trumpet vine and wild rose that have taken over one side of the right of way are beautiful for a good part of the year. We'd see the occasional jogger or someone walking their dog.<br /><br />Now it's being turned into a "nature trail". The first thing they did was tear out most of the trees. The big one with the huge squirrel nest is gone; I'm sure the quail will be too. They've ripped out most of the vines, and for the past few days big machines have been up and down it in preparation for paving. I guess some people's idea of a "nature trail" is different from mine; I thought that's what we had all along. Phil Yearouthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00898824437186464790noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-64256802190089545362015-03-30T11:07:23.340-05:002015-03-30T11:07:23.340-05:00I grew up on a street, a single street, carved out...I grew up on a street, a single street, carved out of an orthopedic surgeon's hobby farm. There was a swamp across the street from my parents' house, and beyond the swamp, a few hundred acres of crops, pasture and woods. From a kitchen window, we watched our Gordon Setter bounding, head up, through the wheat. The kids on the street and I used to pilot downed trees through the swamp in the summer and play hockey on it in the winter. When I was old enough to take guns out by myself, I hunted squirrels in the woods. And when I was a little older than that, I kissed girls from the girls' high schools in St. Louis at bonfires I made in the empty winter fields.<br /><br />But, the surgeon died, and then his wife who let me play tennis on her court, died too. Their children sold most of the land to a home builder which builds plastic-sided houses close together. Reading this piece, I realized how much I long to see the house in which I grew up. But I can't bear the loss of the view it had and I cannot bear the view it has.Constant Gardnerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14509855164424268208noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-31152817417167298072015-03-27T13:33:32.518-05:002015-03-27T13:33:32.518-05:00
http://uplandish.blogspot.com/2014/07/yesterday-...<br /><br />http://uplandish.blogspot.com/2014/07/yesterday-birds.htmluplandishhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10492606017361856076noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-11724055393057712782015-03-27T12:20:15.582-05:002015-03-27T12:20:15.582-05:00Best damn piece of writing I've had the pleasu...Best damn piece of writing I've had the pleasure of reading in quite some time.<br /><br />If you don't publish, I will perish. <br /><br />BJ Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4972254401664966699.post-4848484403506179732015-03-27T10:50:23.634-05:002015-03-27T10:50:23.634-05:00Brilliant. You've come back with a vengance! ...Brilliant. You've come back with a vengance! <br /><br />Every time I go home to Norman I am amazed at the changes. But I am also amazed that the memories of the place and my 21 years there, both true and false memories, remain somewhat intact, somewhat faded, and somewhat more tragic or heroic than what actually occured. So I've got that going for me...Hondo Lanehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17568732845686767846noreply@blogger.com