Category Archives: Transcendental Bob

El día de los muertos

(To read El Gringo Feo’s Costa Rica Diary from the beginning, start here.) Friday, October 26 “Only against death does man cry out in vain.” — Malcolm Lowry At this time of year, my mind wanders the streets of Urubamba in … Continue reading

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A haunting, hilarious talk on the beach with George Saunders

(To read El Gringo Feo’s Costa Rica Diary from the beginning, start here.) Tuesday, August 28 I’ve been thinking a lot about ghosts. We passed a Tico cemetery at some point while Jeff was driving me from the airport in San … Continue reading

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There’s a new monkey in town

(To read El Gringo Feo’s Costa Rica Diary from the beginning, start here.) Friday, August 23 After hearing howlers almost nightly while catching only fleeting glimpses of them, I finally got a good, long look at monkeys. But they weren’t howlers. … Continue reading

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Winter solstice sunset from Radar Hill, Athens, OH

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Dia de Los Muertos

“Only against death does man cry out in vain.”  — Malcolm Lowry Anita seemed perplexed. Lara, Emma and I were all standing in the middle of San Gregorio Cemetery with tears streaming down our cheeks. It was all so beautiful. … Continue reading

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“It seems like all this life, was just a dream …”

As all the Steve Jobs homages blur into noise, Nate Beeler’s cartoon today hits the perfect final note.

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Entering Darkness: Spelunking into ourselves

From the NYTimes: Entering Darkness http://nyti.ms/ividz2

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Remembering the best copy editor ever

Every day after deadline at The Albuquerque Tribune, Barb Page would start her rounds. We called it Schmooze Patrol. She’d set sail in the back of the room at the copy desk. Wade through the city desk. Drift past the … Continue reading

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2010: Ashes to ashes

When Xena died last summer, I didn’t really write about it. I couldn’t. It was one of those rare times when words fluttered away from me like a flock of frenetic finches. Tonight, as 2010 gasps its last and the … Continue reading

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Nuns with paddles

It’s so dark I don’t see the nun buoy until I’m a few feet away. How odd. The red, nun-shaped marker on Parks Bend conjures an instant flashback to angry Sister Mary Library chasing me and Doug Hamilton around book … Continue reading

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