Week 14 – Brush #1

The Wonder of Wander

In a daze, I wandered.

Sometimes you’re the fly, and sometimes you’re the windshield.

I definitely felt like the windshield.

As I walked, my mind collapsed and expanded.

I had no idea what I was seeing or not seeing,

Thinking or not thinking.

I never saw the bee that flung itself into my thigh,

But I felt the burning pain of bee fire.

It made me feel human, though.

It made me feel.

I was reminded of that day back in ’77, when I was at temple.

The yogi smiled at me as he touched my wrist with a glowing rod.

I traced the scar without thinking.

I realized that smiles are not always sinister,

And frowns aren’t always about you.

I brushed aside the tree limb that wanted so desperately to smack me in the head,

And I realized…

It just didn’t matter.

Week 13 – Head #2

Meet Me at the Corner of Now and Not Now

There was nothing in the noggin…

A few minutes after I awoke, I was in the perfect zen state – no thought, no breath, no life, no nothing… (nothing)

Bewildered, I was pre-thinking, post-dreaming,

And in a moment, it all disappeared.

I started thinking.

I tried remembering my dreams.

I tried to think about the day ahead.

I tried to think.

It was that moment that destroyed my morning zen, and I never realized it.

The empty brain was fleeting.

The floating head was grounded.

There will be no nirvana with my coffee.

Nothing but the pain push-pull of my gray matter waging battle against itself.

All. Day. Long.

But I had hope – a slim hope, but one nonetheless –

There would be a chance for the same moment tomorrow…

I only hope I don’t recognize it!

Week 13 – Head #1

Dark Visions

Daylight broke over the horizon.

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, the visions had come back.

When I was a child, there was a big slide at the local playground.

Scrambling up the steps, I somehow lost my balance, and fell on my head.

Concussed, but too young to know it, I remember crying and screaming at the visions that besieged me that night.

No one could have known that the next day, and year, and decade after that, I still had the visions.

When I got to college, I experimented with hallucinogenics.

That first trip, I came face to face with the visions.

I walked through the portal, and defeated each and every demon from that slide accident.

The visions stopped, but my drug use didn’t.

On the cusp of 2017, facing the realities of my stoner life, I decided to give up drugs and become a fully functioning member of society.

I was successful for two weeks.

But there I was, lying in bed…

The visions returned.

Week 12 – Art #2

The Studio

There was a hush over the crowd –

A cliche hung thick in the air.

It was like a professional athlete playing one game at a time

But better.

As I read these words, I found myself intrigued. The marketing folks sure knew what they were doing to entice the crowd they needed!

Formed in the late 1700s by a woman later hanged for witchcraft, the local art studio was having their annual fundraiser. This years’ artists were really pushing the envelope – trying to remind the public what benefit they provided the community.

I marked the date on my calendar. I wanted to see a cliche hanging thick in the air!

And I wanted to support the arts.

And all I could do was be patient, and bide my time, because it is what it is, and it’s all water under the bridge.

Week 12 – Art #1

The Romantic Artist

The romantic notion of carefully crafting a painting, a sculpture, a song, a poem from the ether to the page has always been my vision of the perfect piece of art.

It’s not an easy task – no, it’s fraught with struggle, emotion, pain, and desire. Art is a reward for those who toil – it’s like watching a magician practice the same trick over and over, finally having it pay off by perfect execution.

It’s like an athlete who performs and trains day after day – practicing perfectly in order to execute perfectly.

But it’s not like that at all. The romantic notion of an artist sees the artist practice his whole life for one brief moment – one brief vision – of God. And then it’s gone.



And the torment of my romantic artist is that the artist will chase the desire to re-live that moment just one more time in their life. And then they are hooked – the ultimate hit of crack that sends the artist spiraling.

Chasing the dream.

Now, I hope this is not the case. I wish every artist could find that hole in the sky and see heaven on a daily basis.

That there is no torment. No angst.

That there is success upon success.

But the the chase is always better than the catch, they say…

And in romance, there is pain.

Week 11 – Light #2

Preparing to Be

When I was a little boy, I had a dream that I was locked up in jail.

I was sorely disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to accomplish all the things I was supposed to accomplish in my lifetime.

I look back on that dream often, wondering if I was successful in doing those things.

Deep inside, I think not, and I strive to do better.

But what was I meant to do? What do I want to do?

Squandering time to consider these things?

Or am I preparing a better roadmap?

While I wait for the future to shine the light of perspective upon my dilemma,

I’ll try to be patient.

I’ll try to prepare.

I’ll try to be ready.

To be my own light, and the light to others.

Week 11 – Light #1

Deep the Well

She smiled at me from afar. My heart melted and I couldn’t help but smile back.

My insides turned to Jell-o. My fingers began to tingle.

I thought back to when we first met – it was a cool, rainy day.

We were younger and life was less complicated. The biggest dilemma we had to overcome was the one inside of each of us.

There was no Romeo and Juliet drama. There was no flash in the pan passion. There was just us. And Rain. And cold.

We first kissed outside the deli. There was a burst of light. There were fireworks.

Here and now, I walked faster towards her.

We embrace. We kiss. There is a burst of light. There are fireworks. We are together again, and I never want to let her go.

Sayonara, 2016!

Although 2016 brought some really great things into my life – the completion of my master’s degree, a move into a house that we love, in a neighborhood that we love, a few great concerts, a fantastic vacation on the Outer Banks – I feel like it’s really kicked the crap out of me as well. The celebrity deaths have been brutal, the election was soul-sucking, and my job was particularly harrowing for a while.

So here we are on the cusp of a new year, and I am particularly thrilled!

To be honest, I think I get excited at the prospect of starting every new year, but I think 2017 will be one of big change. Aside from watching how things go with the presidential inauguration, I will have a new job, and new goals to focus on!

I hope everyone has a tremendous baptism at 11:59pm tonight, to wash the stank of 2016 from them, and I wish you all a wonderful, amazing, glorious, fun and happy 2017!

Week 8 – Exercise #2


“Exercise?” I repeated. “Fuck yeah!”

It had been a month since I decided to say “yes” to things that I didn’t really want to do. It was a lovely experiment in terror.

Since it was a new year, I wanted to make myself a better human, which included challenging myself.

If you know me, you know that I hate change and especially hate doing things on the fly. But all of that was about to sneak up on me and punch me in the nards.

The first time I said yes was when I was hungover on New Year’s day. My buddy asked if I wanted a beer. My head screamed no, my belly screamed no, but I said yes.

After a couple, I realized that this “saying yes” thing was a superb idea, and I was going to rock the socks off the new year.

But each day tormented me as I forced myself to say yes to tractor pulls, sushi, chick flicks, cleaning the house, missing football, and chopping wood. What the hell? Even at work, I was already doing the job of three people, and within a week of saying yes, I was doing systematic algorithms – and I don’t even know what that is!

And there I was – a month into this project – trying to understand whether it was worth continuing or not… I had yet to see a benefit to saying yes.

I got home from work and plopped down on the couch. Grabbing the remote, I stuffed my claws into the bag of Cheetos – dinner of champions! And I was gonna get rip-roaring drunk!

Three manhattans in, my buddy called me – he was going to the gym – did I want to go? All I needed, he said, was a little exercise…


Week 8 – Exercise #1

Laptop Open

I sat quietly in my study, praying mantras to the gods of art.

Laptop open, fingers poised, I waited for an excuse to keep me from the inevitable.


Still I waited.

I wondered what was going on in the book of faces.

So I looked.

Even though I didn’t care.

Moments later, I sat –

Laptop open, fingers poised, I waited for another excuse to keep me from the inevitable.


So I pictured a scene in my head,

Where I sat quietly in my study, praying mantras to the gods of art.

Laptop open, fingers poised, I waited for an excuse to keep me from the inevitable.

And I wrote about it…

So goes the twice a week exercise

And my dedication to the ritual.