an old writer and his words

  • THE FINAL SCENE

    For far too long he had beena marionette dancing to a tunehe could not hear, always staying silent,lost in a kabuki theater of the absurd.But he had grown tired of performingat their every demand, his life livedperpetually on call, no time truly his.He was drained by them, empty,not that they cared for they knewthe adulation…

    Lou Faber

  • LIONEL HAMPTON AND THE GOLDEN MEN OF JAZZ

    Blue Note, pardonour constructionblack paintedplasterboarda hangingair conditioning duct. Grady Tatesneering at the skinsgrowling at a high hathands shiftingdeftly reaching inpicking a beatand sliding itover the crowd. Jimmy Woodeblind to the lightsslides his fingersover stringsand talks to the bassresting on his shoulder.It sings backbegging , pleadingdemanding as his headsways with an inner vision. Junior Mancesways slowly…

    Lou Faber

  • CAT (PSYCH)OLOGY

    It wasn’t until I hitmiddle age, which on my scalewill allow me to live past 100,that I discovered that catsare Celtic deep in their hearts.Our cat, she who adopted meand forced her then ownerto marry me, like it or not,was in love with the tin whistleand the uilleann pipes playinghad her in my lap, unmoving.But…

    Lou Faber