Dad Was A Moody Guy
And broody too. He always seemed to be waking up, going to sleep, thinking, driving the Caddy, drinking, or getting over a hangover. In between all of those things he…
Entries from my very first blog, The Open Book
My Home Is Blue
I love where I live. Even though I did not choose to live there. It was more a matter of circumstance and necessity, one that I have grown accustomed to…
The Kayak Slowly Bounced On The Waves
Gently, slowly, the kayak slid across the bay. My legs were braced against the interior of the boat as I moved along. Little waves bobbed me in the water like…
The New Black Sketchbook Sits In Front Of Me On The Bed
The pages between its covers a pristine white. The kind of white that is either terrifying or exciting. The kind of white that begs to be drawn on, written on,…
The Stench Of Cigarettes Is Everywhere
It follows me daily, as I walk the streets, as I ride the bus. Like a plague of locusts, searching for its next meal. I am Job in the world…
The Ocean Has A Job
Looking out at the ocean I watch the waves recede and then return to the shore, crashing with all of the violence of the storm that brought them here. The…