I write, and I'm alive.

Of course, if you tell everyone you’re going to go talk to a rock, some folks will say things like, “But rocks don’t talk!” or “Are you feeling okay?” or “Rocks are only good for eating!” Don’t worry. They’re wrong. Rocks can talk.

Game night with the guys turns ugly when the cop shows up.

They don't change fundamentally -- they don't sprout mouths and stomachs. But every year, even a twisted old crone of an apple tree suddenly decks herself in fresh pink blossoms, like a grandmother dressed for a wedding.

In my last post, "The Curse of Is", I roused myself to hunt verbs, instead of relying on "is" all the time. The blight of "is" lays heavy on my writing. But I didn't get far into that post before I realized that even my domain name hasn't escaped the curse.

"Bill Powell Is Alive"!

What should I have called it instead? "Bill Powell Lives"?

First off, this would feature three small l's in a row.