Author Archives: John Swinburn

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes

Spinning Yarns and Wheels

Just over an hour ago, Anne Lamott posted the following to her Facebook page: Writing: shitty first drafts. Butt in chair. Just do it. You own everything that happened to you. You are going to feel like hell if you … Continue reading

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Ninety-Eight

Either time has always been, or it never was and will never be.  Yet “never” is a time-based concept, as is “always.” So I’m confused and confounded and unable to grasp the fact, or the illusion, of existence.

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A Long Story About a Short Subject

I spent the better part of a recent afternoon doing one of the many things I should have done months ago; cleaning and organizing the garage. The most onerous component of the project was moving big, unwieldy pieces of metal deck furniture … Continue reading

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Ninety-Seven

“If you pour a handful of salt into a cup of water, the water becomes undrinkable. But if you pour the salt into a river, people can continue to draw the water to cook, wash, and drink. The river is … Continue reading

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¡Pendejos!

I don’t just lean left, I do cartwheels left. I am an unabashedly left-leaning dude in a deep red state, an uncomfortable position that could put me in danger in the wrong circumstances.  Yeah, that’s scary to acknowledge.  It should … Continue reading

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You Can’t Take It With You

I didn’t tell anyone—couldn’t tell anyone—before I did it because I knew they would have stopped me, or tried to.  At the very least, they would have insisted I pick someplace closer, someplace safer, someplace reachable by more traditional means. … Continue reading

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Ninety-Six

Privacy is a shadow. It is the illusion of safety in the midst of terror, the protective shield—shredded into a gauze mesh—before a brilliant spotlight. Privacy is the empty space where freedom of thought can no longer be secured, a protection lost to prying eyes … Continue reading

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I Should Have Sawn This Coming

The complexity of the world around us is staggering.  It’s not enough that we must be capable of acknowledging and recognizing the incalculably vast differences between butterflies and locomotives. No, we have to distinguish between components of each of them, and of … Continue reading

Posted in Language, Tools | 1 Comment

Ninety-Five

Walk in any forest and you will unwittingly scatter forest sprites in your wake. Lest anyone think I have lost my grip on reality, let me quote from a revered source on mythical creatures: Dazzling in color and about the … Continue reading

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I Should Have, But I Didn’t

Pay attention to your good fortune. More importantly, share it. Even in the difficulties you experience, you constantly learn that your fortunes are far better than they might have been. This hit home for me yesterday. I had “teeth work” done yesterday, beginning around 11:30 … Continue reading

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Ninety-Four

Why collect pocket knives if you aren’t going to display them? That’s a question I ask myself on occasion, only to answer, “I don’t really collect pocket knives, I just like to have a dozen or so around so I’ll … Continue reading

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Roadrunner Photos

I was able to get a bunch of shots of a greater roadrunner on our deck and on our driveway this afternoon. Only after looking at these two shots did I realize he had not one but two lizards in … Continue reading

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Another Plane of Thought

Today is my day for tooth planing.  That sounds horrible.  I hope it’s not as bad as it sounds. By day’s end, it will be behind me, save for the remnants of numbness and perhaps some swelling and a little … Continue reading

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Ninety-Three

A requisite for inspiration is a conducive attitude.  Absent a welcoming attitude toward creativity and change, inspiration becomes a hammer encased in cement, unable to strike the waiting nail just inches away.

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Debts of Allegiance

To whom does one owe a greater debt of allegiance: ancestors or descendants? Put another way, does piety for the past or faith in the future warrant the larger investment of our intellectual resources? I think of this every time I see Confederate flags displayed in … Continue reading

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Ninety-Two

People can ask you questions and you can give them answers, but you can’t force them to learn.

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An Afternoon Breakfast Break

After a morning in pottery class, followed by lunch at Fisherman’s Wharf with my wife and sister-in-law and a bit of shopping, I spent the afternoon doing a bit of research on breakfasts around the world.  During my explorations of the … Continue reading

Posted in Food, Writing | 2 Comments

Without Reward

After awhile, I will be elbow deep in clay and glaze and the white dust that erupts from dried and drying white clay. Maybe, after I return home, I will post something of substance here. But maybe not. Some days, and … Continue reading

Posted in Writing | 2 Comments

Ninety-One

Stray thoughts ricochet like errant bullets, careening wildly as they strike unintended ideas and rip deeply into ill-formed concepts.  Moustache wax becomes mustard gas and candles become combustibles. A thousand tiny copper wires wrapped around one another share a spark intended for … Continue reading

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Allergens

It does not seem right that Nature should torment us.  It seems unnatural that something of which we are a part should attack us with natural implements. Yet some of us suffer through the onslaught of Spring, itching eyes and nasal congestion. … Continue reading

Posted in Just Thinking, Nature | 2 Comments

Ninety

The first hummingbird of the season visited our hummingbird feeders yesterday. All is right with the world, at least for awhile.  That’s what hummingbird’s do.

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Things I Can’t Allow Myself to Think

We pretend to admire colors, yet we paint the world in black and white. We open ourselves to new ideas, provided those notions don’t cross the threshold between right and wrong—or good and bad or true and false—in our brilliantly … Continue reading

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Eighty-Nine

Tears are gauges of humanity.  People forced to hide them are barometers of decency. I am afraid for the world; it is becoming an unwelcoming place.

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Sitting at a Stop Light

Sitting at a stoplight, you can create some pretty fanciful stories. I know this because, on occasion, I sit at stop lights and, from time to time, I fabricate stories about the people sitting in the cars beside me or behind … Continue reading

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Eighty-Eight

It’s not quite 4:30 a.m. and, again, I’m up for the day.  And my mind is on art. If you’re anything like me, and if you look up “art” in the dictionary (depending on which ones, I suppose), you will … Continue reading

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