When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.When I was a young editor, before I was medicated, I had tremendous bursts of energy/focus/ intensity. My boss said I had two heads. I bought an orange silk blouse with a purple collar. I went to London for four days and emptied my bank account. i slept with two different men on the same day at the national book conference. What I liked best about mania was how my mind generated ideas. I couldn’t walk a block without getting a new idea. I still have tons of ideas, but they arrive in napkins instead of flames. Today, my YouTube trainer said, “I love intensity, but I worship consistency.” Amen.
What do you worship?
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Betsy Lerner 
I adore a spurt of intensity to spark the engine, followed by years of consistency to keep the motor humming.
These days, more than ever, I worship science.
Wait. What? You have a YouTube trainer?
Let me downgrade that. Free exercise programs on YouTube.
“What do you worship?”
The gods have departed, the priests have fled, altars overturned, idols smashed or melted down. The temples are empty. Scattered remnants of the congregation can be found huddled over small fires kindled from pages of unread books. They no longer wail, nor even weep, but sit cold and silent in their grief.
Yes, King.
I really hope this is the beginning of a novel. What lover of words could stop reading? It’s fucking breathtaking
Thank you, harry. I don’t know what it may be, only what it is — a knock-off, something I spewed with little thought in little time, it was so easy. And there’s the issue — it’s too easy. I can do stuff like that. In fact, I have done. Check out my “Fifteen Small Apocalypses,” published a few years back.
Nowadays I’m working on a couple longer pieces that are difficult. They may prove to be too difficult, both for me to properly execute and for any reader to want to endure. But I feel compelled.
I will save that small thing I wrote above, put it in my files. Maybe someday I’ll make it into something larger, but I don’t know.
You are always, and I mean ALWAYs the master.
You make the end of a world resonate in sad beauty with your words, Tetman.
Sustainable writing practices
The system. Not the one everyone hopes for, but the real one. The one that consistently gives me the sun in the morning (for 78 years), the warmth of the woman (for 53 years), that I used for retirement (after 48 years), and where I don’t have to write to survive. I write now because I want to. The honesty is intoxicating. My story is actually pretty good, but it doesn’t matter whether it sells.
I don’t worship, I appreciate..
Nature, love, chocolate, both rock and roll; the courage to let go when the time comes.
Right now I’m kinda on fire for the squirrels and birds out at the bird feeder despite the cold March rain coming down.
David Foster Wallace said in his 2006 commencement speech at Kenyon College that we all must worship something and have no choice in that–our only choice is what we worship. I worship integrity. I live in SIngapore not far from the memorial to Lim Bo Seng, a hero of WWII. I visit him regularly after my morning coffee and honor him as the Chinese honor the dead, with three respectful bows. I ask myself how many people I know who could keep a secret if I told them it was important and they must guard it. Of those, I ask how many would be willing to lose their jobs or their spouse to keep that pledge. Mr Lim died at age 35 under torture to keep the secrets he was entrusted with. In an age where the truth is malleable from day to day, I worship integrity, and honor an exemplaire.