Monday, April 4, 2016


What the fuck, Palmer!

Oops, sorry...Let's try a different opening line, one that doesn't remind me so much of my accolade-filled (not) high school years at Western Reserve Academy back in Hudson, Ohio.

Something's afoot, cyber-folk, and as you very well know by now it sure ain't me cranking out post after scintillating post for my blog, The Headlands Report. Shocking, I know, how much you've missed the whole kit and caboodle. How, since August 6, 2014, you've no doubt waited with baited breath for the next riveting installment. The beautiful pictures! The captivating prose! The complex issues concerning Mother Nature and population Earth! All of it delivered instantly from the nerve center here in San Francisco to wherever you sit, firmly plugged in, or wherever you go, constantly connected.

Instead, this: LIVE! from the beautiful Fort Mason District...absolutely nothing.

I'm not sure what happened, or how it happened, but it happened alright. "It" being good old fashioned writer's block (okay, so perhaps I do know). Doubt-filled, nagging, persistent writers block, intertwined with lethargy and procrastination, my two middle names. Days became weeks, weeks became months, and after a while, after so much vacant time spent kowtowing to The Block and The This and The That, even when I did feel slightly inspired, even when the passion briefly burned and I wanted desperately to write something, anything, it had already been so damn freaking long I thought...well, I thought "Why bother?"

In addition, there was (is and always has been) the whole "Do I really have a voice, a vital one, and a unique style?" thingy looking over my shoulder. A voice and style that people want to hear, and read, and give a shit about? Like, does any of this really matter?

Seems to be a little bit of a pity party in those last couple lines, and a dangling preposition, I believe, but hold your horses because there's also the word MATTER...and speaking of MATTER what about somebody's theory of something from my junior year physics class with Mr. Turner? You know the one: "Objects in motion tend to stay in motion, and objects at rest tend to stay at rest."

Might not be how the saying goes, exactly. Can't remember, as I was stoned for most of the high school, but I know you've heard it before. Lethargy breeds lethargy, and action breeds more action.

So, that there's the answer, plain and simple: get my ass back in motion and write. "Write forward," my nephew Alexander told me, as his own writing teacher had advised him. Don't get bogged down; don't scrutinize and re-scrutinize yourself into immobility. Have fun, be creative (one way or another I have the hankering), and while you're at it include some pictures, because people love pictures. Doesn't have to be earth-shattering, mind-bending subject matter (not that this blog ever was); simply pick an easy subject to get the ball rolling, an experience, one you know and love, and just do it man. Can't be that difficult to start again, can it?

Okay, then...Eureka! With all that in mind, here's a picture of some damn corn!

Not just any corn, mind you, but high summer Ohio corn, accompanied by some ripe-ass Ohio tomatoes and insanely tasty Greek feta from The Greeks (the store has a name, Athens Foods, but we've always called it The Greeks). You stalwart followers of The Headlands Report are no doubt familiar with me and my love for the home-grown culinary delights chez Ohio in the month of August, and pictured here is one of my favorite repasts - so simple and so delicious - from the annual two-week family visit last year (last many years). I swear it seems like a person can't leave the house without coming back in toting a dozen ears or two, no matter where that person was heading in the first place.

But wait, there's more!

Above is a somewhat current photo of mom and dad Palmer - Georgene and George (I know, right?) - and a towering stack of red Solo cups for beer and pop and lemonade and what have you at their annual family and friends summer lawn party last August. Ginger and George are both mid-80s now, living large in Rocky River, twenty minutes west of Cleveland proper, and I cherish them and the time we get to spend together throughout the year! The picture at the top of this post, by the way, is of the downtown Cleveland skyline, seen from the west side as well, from Edgewater Park.

So, readers-mine..there you have it. A real page-turning entry, eh? Told you it might not be spellbinding stuff, but I did promise (myself, mostly) to just write, and that I did. Do it often enough, methinks, and it could get easier. Better, even!

With those brief words of encouragement, I'll leave you until the next installment - oh my stars, what a cliff-hanger! - which I promise will be soon(er than later).

I hope.

Ciao for now.
Peter J. Palmer

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