Turning Up Bones

Because we’ll all be fossils one day.

The fact and fiction of David Lee Holcomb. You decide which is which.

  • Come Fly with Me

    I know Mr Jung and Mr Freud say we can learn things from our dreams: well, last night I learned that zeppelin crews on the Rio to Lisbon route steal shoes from the passengers’ staterooms when they get bored. Click here to continue

  • The fine art of seeing.

    As I do just about every week, I stopped off on the way home from work last Friday to check a couple of books out of the Fayetteville Public Library. I usually read quite a bit, and I try to keep the beast supplied with a plenitude of reasonably nutritious fare — otherwise I start… Click here to continue

  • Oh, is that my hand in your pocket?

    When I hear politicians and pundits talking about the way Big Government is sucking the life out of this country, I can’t help but feel a smidgin of guilt: my family is one of those that has been robbing the taxpayer blind for the past fifty years. Click here to continue

  • Dream a Little Dream.

    Last night I dreamt that my family was being studied by a world-famous psychiatrist and dozens of my relatives had been gathered together for the purpose, almost none of whom I recognized. Even my father — who died some years ago — showed up in a cheap brown suit and took a stroll through the… Click here to continue

  • Message in a Bottle.

    Some time ago I heard about a couple of guys who were going to use helium balloons to send up disposable cameras with instructions for whoever finds the cameras to use them to take pictures of themselves and their lives and then send the cameras back. Click here to continue

  • “There was an old lady…”

    When I was a child in Montgomery, Alabama, during the very early sixties, I can remember certain areas around town that spent much of the year buried under a green and hairy shroud that covered telephone poles, buildings, billboards, trees, parked cars, slow-moving pedestrians: the dreaded kudzu. Click here to continue

  • Through the Eyes of a Child.

    Today I’m doing something a little different: I’m inviting a guest to speak to my readers. My mother was a child living at Hickam Field on the Hawaiian island of Oahu when it was bombed by Japanese planes on December 7, 1941. Needless to say, she remembers the occasion well, and has offered to write… Click here to continue

  • In the Eye of the Beholder.

    I’ve recently been browsing through various online resources for artists and I’ve noticed something that disturbs me: When did “Learn How to Draw” come to mean “Learn How to Draw Natalie Portman in Star Wars Makeup”? Click here to continue

  • The View from the Tower

    I often read novels by Latin-American authors in the original Spanish. I know, I know: part of the reason for doing it is just to be able to make statements like that — we all carve out these nuggets of self-esteem where we can find them — but the fact remains that some stars really… Click here to continue

  • The Mutually Exclusive Club

    I’ve known a fair number of so-called “creative” people in my time — I consider myself one of them — and there is one thing that we all seem to have in common: we’re always reaching, unsuccessfully, for control. Click here to continue