Octavia Butler, Irish Alice and Me
On Octavia Butler's 72nd birth anniversary, June 22, 1947, let me tell you how the personal finances of the visionary writer reminded m
A Black Cat Crossed My Path
I do not like cats, but when Le Chat Noir disappeared, it grieved me to see Black Mama Cat and Figo fight for their survival. Le Chat Noir was the biggest of the three cats who roam the house. They are black cats. Le Chat Noir was the big cat, a tom cat. He reminded me of a cat my family had when I was a kid: a tom, his face claw-scratched in alley fights, until it looked like he had fresh face piercings. I am allergic to cats, and here at Can Serrat I never touched the cats
I could be eating mealworms
If I could believe my eyes and ears, a meal of insects could be in my future all because I wanted to eat beef and drive cars. For two months, all anyone at Can Serrat talked about was an exhibit in Barcelona about humans doing an outstanding job killing the Earth, and ourselves. It was the After the End of the World exhibit. The last review was from some Norwegians who made the exhibit their first stop of their second day in Spain. I had to go to know what the buzz was about.
Tested by the Mountain
Little did I know how soon on my mountain hike I would wish I had the safety bolt called "Life Saver." I came to the mountains outside of Barcelona to write. The ground is hard-packed red clay and over that a layer of rock. It’s mountain, so the earth undulating, up and down, requires heavy thick-soled shoes which I had brought along. Most people come here to walk. Circles of the 1992 Olympics can be found on street signs, but the area icon is the mountain range. I am on one