James B. Mielke
My blogs
| Introduction | Raised in the Berkeley Free State at the corner of Paranoia and Grandeur, schooled at People’s Park by the Red Rockets and the STP Family, currently resides on the fringes of Jefferson but without an airplane. He has been a Peer, an Athenian and has kissed the (dirty) feet of a Guru—little of this education took hold. Chased rainbows and ragpiles, built houses and planted seeds, danced with the Green Death when it was one of the few True Brews in the West. Nowadays organic Green is his favorite color. He sympathized with the Devil and his Friends ages ago, can’t really blame them for their faults. Thinks that before we rush to condemn we need to take a long dark look into our own soul mirror. He believes there is only one battle worth fighting (and fight it every day) and no war worth praising. Has simple advice for aspiring writers: blow up your television, disconnect your internet, turn your phone off, run your car until it is out of gas, run your bank account until it is out of cash. When you have freed yourself of ugly distractions you can use the liberated time to listen to the voices that disturb you. As a writer, you are the secretary for those voices. |
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