by Tim Girvin | Mar 25, 2001 | Writings
I’d forgotten about this. I’d forgotten about how difficult it is to get ink out. Off your fingernails, the seams of your fingerprints, the creases in your hands. And your face, getting ink off your face. Yesterday, Terri, her accomplice Bette...
by Tim Girvin | Jan 15, 2001 | Writings
A Learning On Sunday, January fourteenth, 2001 at 7:12 am, at my home on Decatur Island, sitting alone in a candlelit space, the darkness looming over the water and the misted islands beyond, I received a call from my parents. My brother Matt, the youngest of the...
by Tim Girvin | Nov 9, 2000 | Writings
It is curious that only two seasons speak to action: the Spring. And the Fall. Winter doesn’t describe much, unless we are to infer…inter-ruption. Etymologically, winter is derived from the Old English: water. Summer is merely, in its Sanskrit history,...
by Tim Girvin | Oct 27, 2000 | Writings
Last night, considering my present sickly condition after returning from Paris, I thought a moment of “sitting” or meditation might be a good recuperative effort. I lit some candles, burned some incense, turned the lights down low. And sat. And sat. I...
by Tim Girvin | Oct 13, 2000 | Writings
the office this morning. All was silent except for the delicate “tinkling” sound that I heard from afar. It sounded like running water, a persistent drip. Then, moving down the corridor, I realized that it was crickets chirping. Yes, I will proffer, the...
