Curations from the Human Jungle
[When did I start writing Stripah Love? I can't remember specifically, but I think it was in the aftermath of leaving Chelsea Green, publisher of books for sustainable living. I was recently separated from my wife of 28 years, and actively caring for my 80+ year old mother. It was many years before the "Me,... Continue Reading →
“I thought of you about a month ago,” said Cuzzin. “That broad on Channel 5, what’s her name? Cynthia Twiddlecunt? Whatever. She reviewed your movie.” “That must have been interesting.” Cynthia Tidwell-Kant, newscaster. Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com “Oh, did I say she ‘reviewed’ your movie. She ‘assassinated’ your movie, and you along with... Continue Reading →
In some ways things didn’t change. The families still came to Indian Mound each summer where Artie, his brother and sister, and countless cousins (including Cuzzin) spent seamless days chasing minnows and listening to Red Sox games and having seaweed fights and catching horseshoe crabs and playing mumblety-peg. Each day was capped by a lingering... Continue Reading →
[Attention Subscribers! If you normally read Silverback Digest on your mobile phones, I hope you click on the headline to be routed to the silverbackdigest.com website which is where you will see full visuals. SB SM] There are no customers for bait this morning. A few regular degenerates stop by, looking to sneak in a... Continue Reading →
Author's note: Back to the Jackson Browne song These Days that was so evocative as I rounded into the home stretch making the annual pilgrimage from Vermont to Post Island to open the cottage for the season. It took almost ten years for the penny to drop. During this span I became a bigger fan... Continue Reading →
A small sign above the doorway reads, “Welcome to the edge of civilization.” Cuzzin’s Bait and Tackle stands discordantly on what is now the busy suburban corner of Ocean Avenue and Germantown Pike in Quincy, Massachusetts. Built as the home of Gordon’s SeaFood by Seamus “Bull” Gordon in 1933, it purveyed many a fried clam,... Continue Reading →
[Today's post, as was yesterday's, is a good lead up to the publication Stripah Love: Author's Edition which will be serialized on these very pages, beginning on Sunday. SB SM] from the Boston Globe December 16, 2024 GLOUCESTER — For nearly a century, Neil Malick’s family hauled bushels of soft-shell clams from the mudflats around... Continue Reading →