Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

IT'S YOU!!! I see you moved! Yes? HI MOM! (The previous venting/poem must be read in a "Fisher Poets" style. Each year, for the last 10 years, Astoria has hosted such an event, featuring poems/ essays from the Ocean Industries. Most of the readings are done in sort of a gruff pirate sounding diatrip...

Bait and Switch By Jane E. Herrold I had me a man. He said I was the best thing since sliced bread. Six months later, I might as well be dead. It ain’t my fault his body doesn’t work. Why pick now to notice my every quirk? He’s the one who hunted me down, Now you’d think I couldn’t be found. Every t...

Howdy.....Thanks to you all for your comments about the "Dad" article. Don' think the old fart was any kind of saint. I suppose the essay DOES make him sound a bit like a cross between Mr. Rogers and Edward Abbey. The last two years of his life my Father never directing a sentence in my direction wi...

Dad By Jane E. Herrold David Herrold was my Dad. He bought my first car, my first horse, and a substantial education. I stood in awe of him as I was growing up. A lifelong resident of the fishing berg, Ilwaco, Washington, he could run a chain saw like an electric knife, land and gut a giant prehisto...