Monthly Archives: May 2013

“This is boring.” The young teenager was not impressed with Shakespeare’s fine work. Mr. Carter, my junior high school English teacher, asked, “Could it be that you are bored not because the material is boring but because you are boring?” … Continue reading →

here’s a little something. Just sort of playing around. Like picking a guitar without really playing a song. Below the sulfur clouds, the boiling lava, and four thousand feet of solid rock, Nigel Townsend bit into a slice of pizza. … Continue reading →

The question has occurred to me on occasion.  My answers will be less than satisfying, to be sure. In the morning.  The morning always seems like a good time to write.  The mind is fresh.  Brand new perspective and all. … Continue reading →

The slog to the end.  Just a few more days to go.  And I am one post behind.  Oh well, that just means I get to write two in one day. Let’s call this post an example of what I … Continue reading →

We have compost.  Well, we have a stinky pile of rotting vegetables, fruits, eggshells, and yard trimmings.  Mixed with shredded paper.  Those fruit flies are really happy about all of that.  There’s a fruit fly village happening in that bin. … Continue reading →

12 more posts in 12 more days. The last week or so has been a little tough. I have been struggling with finding a voice.  The problem is not that I’m struggling or that I am not finding a voice, … Continue reading →

Here’s a funny joke we heard the other night at Crackers. It’s the worst when you’ve been drinking and you fall asleep on the sofa and you wake up there the next day.  Fully clothed.  You know the feeling.  Sunlight … Continue reading →

Put your personal feelings about Josh Groban aside for a moment.  That song about someone raising someone else up is great. It’s a love song, actually.  A love song to you.  Every one of your friends is more because of … Continue reading →

Moisturizer.  Use it.  It works. Our friend Larry is a good ole boy from Iowa.  Raised on a farm and has plenty of farm in him.  His haircut is farm. His mustache is farm.  He rides his bicycle 80 miles … Continue reading →

I sat down on the wet, hard cement.  The place smelled of chlorine and piss.  How long would I have to choke back the tears before this would all be over?  The damn string broke on my swim trunks.  I … Continue reading →