Tag Archives: Kathleen Murphy

The Conscience of an Independent

There is a level of emotion that only men—and I mean men—who have run for public office and lost can appreciate. You pour every bit of male egocentric pride into a humungous unwieldy uncontrolled risky effort, take positions that will enliven some people to ecstasy and passionately infuriate others to blind rage, suffer every fool gladly seeing yourself as wise, go into debt, hazard your most cherished relationships, and permit petty concerns tear apart every seam of your psyche and soul, all in full public Continue reading →

Book Launch. Six Stories.

June was book launch month for my novel The Navigator. Anticipation met reality. I promised from the start here that my posts on Algonquin Redux would concern the book’s marketing. The wild ride of sales has now begun. It will continue hopefully unabated. Today, an experiment in economy: Six stories about the book launch, each exactly one hundred words, including this paragraph of introduction. If the poets can manage to muster sufficient artistic discipline to write a haiku, a sonnet, or an Alexandrine (you could Continue reading →

Noir Star

The audio is clear and resolute. The vibrant voice is that of an older man, still a lion, called upon and caused to reflect. He speaks remembrance in pain and with honor. The words come forth as lyrically as a poem, unsettling, unblemished. What I remember is the stench, It was unpleasant. That happened what? Sixty-some years ago? When you’re that age you just . . . You just don’t want to see it. And just like that Guys came apart. We just didn’t know. Continue reading →