Effortlessly they misappropriate misinterpret miss the point Make-up like blackface and dredlocks ironic racism hipster terms playing bluegrass in Brooklyn pretending to be poor wearing flannel and eating vegan. They laugh at real culture call us dumb rednecks have coolie themed parties wearing headdresses at Coachella and boots to Bonnaroo. Cinco de Mayo is only a […]
Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “sign.” “Looks like signs of trouble up ahead” Jeb nodded toward the flashing lights around the next bend. I didn’t feel much like talking so, I nodded and went back to my own thoughts. This day had been one sign of trouble after another. First, the
“I tire so easily now, It must be the weather” She knew it wasn’t the weather. It was her life. So mundane and full of redundant days and ridiculous people. He looked at her over the top of the newspaper with disdain. At least, he showed a little interest in her this morning, eyes staring
If you’re over 50 and have a bit of time on your hands, now could be the perfect time in life to open up a business of your own. You’ve got a lot of experience to offer, and that could be reflected very well in a targeted product or service. Or even if you want
Sarah has been awarded the Texas Writer of the Year and received the Texas Institute of Letters Lifetime Achievement Award. She has written for Oprah’s Magazine, NY Times Sunday Magazine and Op-Ed columns, Chicago Tribune, Real Simple, Mademoiselle, Glamour, Salon, Daily Beast, Ladies Home Journal, Good Housekeeping, MS, Texas Observer; and is a columnist for Texas Monthly. Growing up, Sarah moved all over the world with her air force family but is now settled in Austin, Texas with her husband, son and very cute corgi.
Writers Talking with Sarah Bird @sarahbirdwriter Read More »
She could feel the hunger in her as she looked through the window. There he sat with his date, a woman well past her prime with blonde hair that can only come from a bottle. She was not jealous if anything she felt sorry for the woman. She knew what was coming. Maybe not tonight
Her name was Laurel just like the flowers that covered the mountains in the spring. Her face told the story of her life, every wrinkle a new chapter, every line contained a tale. She was old as the mountains and as young as the buds on the trees. On warm days you could see
I am Lady Gray, the banshee, the old crone, the sound of wind howling in the night. I bring with me the loneliness of the ages, the lamentation of the lost souls, and the wails of the living who mourn them.
