The American Friend

“My destination is no longer a place, rather a new way of seeing.” ― Marcel Proust

Monday, August 11, 2025

›
  Of course I am how can I not be terminally urged as I am toward the sea  when the aching breeds tempests and honest tornadoes  how can I n...
Monday, August 4, 2025

›
  after the release of a scathing new biography of the disgraced Duke of York   she had things to consider like the cost of wine in a bitter...
Tuesday, July 29, 2025

›
  THE GLEANERS   Leave the grapes on the vine for longer than the rest labor has been overrated hunger says it best workers are the construc...
Friday, July 25, 2025

›
before she reaches the end of a thought there had been no one she could speak of working with the dead  as she was the shortened firearms st...
Thursday, July 24, 2025

›
  KIND OF BLUE   Late at night in a field of bad dreams I breathe like a stallion an old one it seems I thrash in my stall I shoulder that a...
Monday, July 7, 2025

›
  WE WERE CREATED   assigned to the future tentative like furniture  you haven’t yet bought for rooms that are silent as the drones  you hav...

›
Glare   from decision a revision mistaken for benevolence   Glare   when the answer reels up smacks the heart with insistence   Glare   at t...
Monday, June 16, 2025

›
  From your memoirist the museum of magic holds many treasures among them the loss  and loves in great measure hours with you in your crowde...
Wednesday, June 11, 2025

›
  ROTH   tonight I cried prepared as I was with  a pinot noir and a pipe truth be told so that I could drift afar from a smoke-filled brain ...
Friday, June 6, 2025

›
Jeanne Moreau likely quit drinking around the age of   57 .       WINDOW she had a window once of beauty elusive carousel ring they stopped ...
Tuesday, June 3, 2025

›
I don’t feel like being not remembered she said and sighed the past lies dead and expertly dismembered the lies are the realm of the effortl...

›
  MY FATHER’S BIRTHDAY   my father’s birthday I didn’t know for the longest time I didn’t care or I preferred not to care who was he unloved...
›
Home
View web version

About Me

My photo
Linda Danz
A native New Yorker, I was born on the lower East Side before it was trendy. Way before. Years ago, when the corporate world of magazine publishing booted me out the door, I picked myself up, dusted myself off and decided after struggling as a painter for most of my adult life that I would struggle as a writer. The idea for my novel “A Birdhouse In Brooklyn” came from an original idea I had for a screenplay, “The Birdhouse.” While writing that screenplay—a collaborative effort—I felt my story was bigger than a movie and I began in earnest to write it as novel. The novel is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, business organizations, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The use of names of actual persons, places, and events is incidental to the plot, and is not intended to change the entirely fictional character of the work. A BIRDHOUSE IN BROOKLYN has been registered with the Writers Guild of America, East #R20993 (June 13, 2006). No part of it may be posted or reprinted without permission from the author, Linda Danz. All photographs, unless otherwise credited, are mine.
View my complete profile
Powered by Blogger.