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Where do aging poets go to die? For Geoff Peterson the answer's simple: the old Richford Hotel, warehouse of the destitute & deranged in Erie, Pa. where the author has gone to write his memoir and make a last stand by tossing his heart medication to meet the unleashed carnal demands of Margot, mistress of film noir. Journalist Jane Anderson calls "Dark Is My Therapy" a vivid portrait of human frailty at the advance of old age: poor even in wealth, sickly even in health, wrinkled but unbowed--till death do you part.
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|Product dimensions:||6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.30(d)|
About the Author
Geoff Peterson lives in a former mid-sized hotel and writes to ward off ghosts. "Dark Is My Therapy" is the latest entry in his ongoing series "The Literature of Missing Persons." He has two grown daughters, an aging father, and a girlfriend. He avoids the company of writers, preferring instead to watch silent films of the Weimar era. A self-described recluse, he's written eleven books in which nothing happens. There is, he says, nothing to be said publicly about anyone that can hold up under scrutiny.