The View From Scranton

Something Urbane This Way Makes

Lax even in my lapse, I let the Viewlessness get to me. Or worse, not get to me at all. I sit. And I stir. And I yawn for the day when I too shall be released back into the thick of all things.

And sometimes, even if I can’t see the city for the hills, something urbane this way comes. Today was that kinda sometime, when a bolt from a ‘burg far from this no home came my way. I blog of one Lynne D. Johnson, a dame who really knows how to make a Hood’s dogged day, however inadvertently the make.

Today Ms. J writes of Relentless Aaron, that most-fittingly monikered purveyor of street lit. Those of you in my know are aware of RA’s six-figure deal with Harper Collins. You’re also aware of my strong taste for all that’s grit in lit, and my extreme distaste for those who’d spit it down and out.

Like a certain hack named Nick Chiles, who’s Times piece sparked my own Pressing, much of which was whittled from an even more vociferous scolding (see below). Lady J was kind enough to cite my slighting, and I in turn shall be forever grateful for the citing.

Kudos and cred to LDJ, Relentless A, and all the others who don't wait for the door to open but instead choose to kick it in.

I hope Ninny Nick Chiles is listenin.'

posted by John Hood. @ 5:49 PM