Poole Creek, Blair Village, and the Meaning of “The Projects”

My hands

Lately when I’m driving and I nearly get in an accident—someone cuts me off or I slam on my brakes or any of the various near misses that happen with shameful regularity—my hands burn. I mean the thin skin on the backs of my hands grows hot and tingly.

It’s not an unpleasant sensation. It disappears within a couple breaths. What is it, adrenaline? Or some shot of bloodflow in response to danger? Nothing just happened, but my body reacted like something happened. It’s a tiny, physical response to a close call.

I assumed this only happened in the car: a mini panic attack, isolated to the spot where sunlight bastes my hands as I grip the steering wheel.

But last week it happened while I was in the house, fingers curled and hovering over my laptop. My hands lit up when I read this review of my book, Flight Path. So I learned something about myself just then.

I have virtually retired this blog (est. 2004!) in favor of Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and occasionally, freelance writing jobs. I'll keep paying the annual Typepad fee to keep it online for a while, so that anyone who Googles "Mountain View, Georgia" can find my research and musings from way back. Stumptown has been a wonderful sketchbook for me stash ideas and test theories, feeling published yet somehow still private enough to experiment.

Thanks for reading. 



And this is exactly what happened. I read the review in Atlanta Magazine this morning, got to work and Googled "Mountain View"...and here we are. So well done! And your story sounds so interesting. I am looking forward to getting a copy and reading it. Best wishes!

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