Brad Chitwood
About
Brad spends much time in limestone dollar castles though he enjoys the outdoors a bit more.
The writings of Brad Chitwood
Knight’s Corner
I don’t know how I am going to live without Knight’s Corner. I heard the news they were closing yesterday and was almost reduced to tears. I have always taken pride in frequenting the little gas station/deli/bait shop/grocery. I couldn’t tell you how many times my family stopped by there on a Brown County excursion in [...]
Boy
There is no castor oil to purge
this sweet disease called you.
In my stomach, steel wire, hypodermic thin, like the hair starting to poke through the blonde around your temples,
filters acid to my blood.
Mandragora, Amanita, Belladonna, Teonanácatl, I beseech thee.
Why? All these years…
A decade and a half, and I still feel heat, even when he’s as [...]
Bloomingtown August
August 1, 2008 - 1:54 pm
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So much to do
So need to focus
So need a plan
So much furniture to move
So many walls to wash
So many knick knacks to dust
So much to sweep
So much to toss
So much to lay order upon
So many boxes and bags
So much to budget
So many leases to sign
So many books to buy
So much to scour
So much to mop
So [...]
Lament for Mamaw
July 31, 2008 - 10:43 am
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Some of the things we did when I was little would probably horrify Child Protective Services.
Car wheels on a gravel road, I remember vividly being four years old sitting on the arm rest of a 69 Plymouth whose floorboards had rusted away, no seat belt, let alone a car seat, going for a ride with you and Poppy. The [...]
Upon Reading Raintree County
March 19, 2008 - 11:38 am
Tags: Brad
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“Raintree County…which had no boundaries in time or space, where lurked musical and strange names and mythical and lost peoples, and which was itself musical and strange.”
Ross Lockridge Jr.
Poor Uncle Ross…I never knew the man, in fact he extinguished himself in 1948, with a sweeper hose ran from the tail pipe to the back seat [...]
March 3rd
I woke up in disbelief at 6:30 this morning, my body still full of lactic acid and torn muscles. I had spent the better part of the weekend picking up splinters from the arm of my sixty year old silver maple that crashed in an ice storm a couple months back. My old [...]
Hoosier
Out of Virginia and Carolina
to new hills and red clay
Scots-Irish, German, English
With stills, hounds, home brew
Children in packs
Bearing freckles and chestnut curls
Massacring oak and hickory
For slab-board shacks and fields of corn, potatoes, cabbage, hemp, tobacco
Subsistence
I am not a flat-lander of the Tipton Til Plain
I am of the Upland,
of Pentecost Revivals,
rusted four wheel drive Chevys,
from those [...]
