2017

I have written a novel called Maestro Keys. Its 70,000 words are divided into forty chapters. Every few days I will post one or two of those chapters. The story is set in the San Francisco Bay Area. The action takes place over most of 2017. The preface to the…

every time i look at this thing it appears differently; i have written so much online i do not know what i am or where life could go except Here onscreen Down in the voice Writing whatever comes to mind without end or hope for payment or community or connection…

On Lady Bird, Call Me by Your Name, and how we tell stories — Author’s note: This is an old piece from 2018 (hence the weird date referencing in some parts) that I published for Barber’s Chair Digital, which seems to have taken it down. Preserving it here for posterity + portfolio purposes. For my Medium followers who haven’t heard from me since *checks…

Its here 1, Jan, 2018 but 2017 was all about patience. I had a chat with a friend this morning to discuss how last few months has been, while i was telling my story I immediately thought of writing an article here for all for a quick snapshot. It was…

I am nearing 1000 stories. This has prompted me to try and make them easier to access without having to scroll down 994. Here is the first 24 from January to March 2017. Best, g 1. When did God appear? I have been trying to recall my earliest thought though perhaps more accurately my first conscious notion of God. I…gordiejackson.medium.com 2. Hold an image of a lake in your mind and don’t let a storm brew The story is told of the master onboard a ship with his students. The Master falls asleep and while he is sleeping a…medium.com

As I’m writing this, Dogecoin is up 8,239% in 2021. Yes, a cryptocurrency designed as a joke (no doubt with the cutest mascot) has left every other asset in its dust. Sorry value investors. Dogecoin’s performance even trounces Bitcoin’s relatively shitty 98% gains. Last September, I wrote an article about…

We will always have the tangerine sun and the bespectacled moon; engaging in mirth and a tempestuous game of hide and seek. We will always have mini monsoons and cypress trees, spiralling into the cloudless sky. Seared limbs and denim jackets, the lazy sweltering, August sun; burning into our backs. We will always have the silent, gilded, frosty nights and the warm raucous laughter. The soft smoke curling around us as we speak, we shall always have it all; In the mind’s eye, at least.

I was trying to sit down and tell you the story of me leaving my church. Then I thought — “no, I don’t want to tell you that. You should just buy my novel when it’s done.” This is fair. But — maybe there are other reasons I don’t want…