There was an article in this morning’s paper which a very perspicacious reader brought to my attention. There’s a person out there who claims to be the real daughter of Elvis, and like, it’s all been a conspiracy to cover up her true identity. Give me a day or two on this one, it might bare some fruit.
Traveling as much as I have in the past makes certain preparations rather common work for me. I don’t worry much about which bag I’ll grab, I’ve got briefcase for my computer if it’s a formal deal, and a backpack if it’s more of a show that I set up for. All depends on the crowd I’m working with. But a certain degree of mental and spiritual preparation is required, too. I found a copy of the latest book by Rudolfo Anya at the book store yesterday, and within the first couple of pages, I remember why I like so much of his work, especially his recent “Sonny Baca” series. So the same way as the Cormac So now that I’m getting geared up for a rollicking weekend on the Western slope of the Sandia Mountains, I figure a little background reading is in order. It’s a little ironic that the mainstream literary circles seem to have missed this author. More so than other writers, I feel like
