Thursday, January 18, 2018

Taking Stock

Not saying I feel this way all the time, but...

Taking Stock (2017) from Duncan Cowles on Vimeo.

Sunday, December 31, 2017

My Top Ten Favorite Films of 2017 (and more)

To repeat last year's top-ten statement: this is not a Best-Of list, because ranking art is silly. These are just the films I watched and liked most, and that I felt were fine exemplars of their respective genres. My favorites this year tend toward comedies and tentpoles. What can I say... It's been a year worth escaping.

Sunday, December 24, 2017


By Wendell Berry

From the union of power and money
From the union of power and secrecy,
From the union of government and science,
From the union of government and art,
From the union of science and money,
From the union of genius and war,
From the union of outer space and inner vacuity,
The Mad Farmer walks quietly away.

There is only one of him, but he goes.
He returns to the small country he calls home,
His own nation small enough to walk across.
He goes shadowy into the local woods,
And brightly into the local meadows and croplands.
He goes to the care of neighbors,
He goes into the care of neighbors.
He goes to the potluck supper, a dish
From each house for the hunger of every house.
He goes into the quiet of early mornings
Of days when he is not going anywhere.

Calling his neighbors together in to the sanctity
Of their lives separate and together
In the one life of the commonwealth and home,
In their own nation small enough for a story
Or song to travel across in an hour, he cries:

Come all ye conservatives and liberals
Who want to conserve the good things and be free,
Come away from the merchants of big answers,
Whose hands are metalled with power;
From the union of anywhere and everywhere
By the purchase of everything from everybody at the lowest price
And the sale of anything to anybody at the highest price;
From the union of work and debt, work and despair;
From the wage-slavery of the helplessly well-employed.

From the union of self-gratification and self-annihilation,
Secede into the care for one another
And for the good gifts of Heaven and Earth.

Come into the life of the body, the one body
Granted to you in all the history of time.
Come into the body’s economy, its daily work,
And its replenishment at mealtimes and at night.
Come into the body’s thanksgiving, when it knows
And acknowledges itself a living soul.
Come into the dance of the community, joined
In a circle, hand in hand, the dance of the eternal
Love of women and men for one another
And of neighbors and friends for one another.

Always disappearing, always returning,
Calling his neighbors to return, to think again
Of the care of flocks and herds, of gardens
And fields, of woodlots and forests and the uncut groves,
Calling them separately and together, calling and calling,
He goes forever toward the long restful evening
And the croak of the night heron over the river at dark.

Monday, December 4, 2017

a new short from ABDUCTED director Ben Joyner...

As we move closer to the shoot date for Ben Joyner and my short film ABDUCTED, I'm stoked to be able to share with you the short documentary, "I Have Something To Tell You," which Ben lensed and co-directed.

Wife-Hannah and I saw this short with Ben when it played the Austin Film Festival and found it quite moving. Check it out. Enjoy.

I Have Something To Tell You from Ben Joyner on Vimeo.

Friday, November 24, 2017

Saturday, November 18, 2017


My wife and I saw and loved MUDBOUND at the Austin Film Festival this year. It's now on Netflix and select theaters, and I highly recommend it.

Friday, November 17, 2017

never hit a prius with your emotions

Yesterday, when the woman in the Prius in front of me got a huge gap in traffic and pulled forward to turn right, I (stupidly) took my foot off the brake and looked left to make sure-for-sure that it was clear and then the woman decided to panic and hit her brakes and I... BOOP... lightly tapped the back of her car with the front of mine. Barely touched that Prius, but still.

It happens.

Mistakes are made.

By me.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Michael and the Red Ryder BB Gun: a (true) short story

My childhood friend Michael appears as a (thinly disguised) character in my novel, POUNDERS, but he was a local legend long before I ever tried to immortalize him on the page. His lovable, insane antics kept his parents up at night worrying, and kept my life interesting. He was and is a "character" in every sense of the word.

Yesterday I pulled an old journal off the shelf, opened it at random, and read the following story to my amused wife. She encouraged me to share it here. So without further ado, this is more or less how I remember the story of...

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