New Blog


6/29/2012: Asheville

On the way home this evening, the car in front of us almost hit a bear.

A bear!


God, I love this place!


I am beginning to think there is an addendum to Newton’s Laws, to the effect of:

The people who swoop in to revolutionize the world will inevitably become exactly the people they have usurped.

More personally: “You will become your parents.”

Get used to it.


Today is David Downing’s birthday: Happy Birthday, David! To celebrate I had the best day ever (no, really, I mean it) on my waveski. Two to four foot (any rideable wave is head high in this wonderful craft), offshore winds and congenial crowds made this a day to remember. Exercising like this is the ONLY way!


We spent the weekend with our friends Tommy and Cathy in their new Pond home just south of Hiawassee. It was idyllic! I want to get this down before the week shoves the memory out of me.

We went for brilliant walks along the creek in Unicoi State Park, and around the shores of Lake Chatuge. At night we’d go to an area where the trees didn’t block everything, and shivering, gaze up at the Milky Way strewn like a mist over the brilliant stars, leading our imaginations up and away, away...


This is actually an addendum to the music blog, which I cannot edit, apparently.

There is no way to mind meld with another human being and transfer emotions. When music moves me, when it grabs hold of my emotional core and wrestles it to the ground, it is what I imagine a religious experience would feel like. Assuming I would know a religious experience if it bit me on the ass.

All I can do is shove it - gently - under your ears and plead “LISTEN to this! It transports me to someplace magical, beyond all the day to day stuff that we daily endure. Let me show you this riff, this harmony, this dissonance, this key change, and see if your perception encompasses mine.” This is the most pure form of communication I know, and communication is part of what makes us less alone.

Listen to it from this perspective...  Please?


The new year started for me when we cautiously poked our collective noses out the door, hoping the pyromaniacs in the neighborhood had finally gone to bed. Emerging on Beach Blvd. (FL State Road 90)

we turned eastward toward the beach. There, trotting leisurely down the sidewalk, was a young woman on a horse. Without missing a beat, it left a few turds for the pedestrians and cantered away.

And they say New York has all the oddballs.



Poverty is the leading factor in common with students who ‘underperform’. What a masterpiece of politically correct bullshit is that sentence: we wouldn't want to call them POOR students. There are so many factors contributing to a student’s testing: biology, genetics, attitude, home life, and of course - teachers. But the Republican party only wants to pay attention to one side of the equation, find somebody to blame, spit into the flushing toilet and walk away from the mess. Poverty is the one aspect of poor students - not the ONLY one, by any means - that stands out when you examine it.

It must be tough for the GOP to look at poverty. Don’t you feel kinda sorry for them?

Another dispassionate, cleanly worded editorial from the lunar canine.


There are many things in this world I cannot explain, and which I collect. Mark Gardner and I always wanted to spend the night in a house that was documented as being haunted, because I must have an experience to believe.

Mary and I spent Valentines Day in a hotel, to remove ourselves from any distractions. We took her car, and I drove. A rare cool front had me wearing my jacket, and I had my keys in the right pocket, her keys in the left - though habitually I clip my keys around a belt loop with a carabiner.

Walking back to the car to return home, we passed the monstrously loud air conditioner, and I felt in my pocket for the keys. My jacket was in my arms, in front of me. Of course, the first pocket had my keys, but in the other pocket were Mary’s and homeward we went. Got home, unpacked, did the minute tasks everybody does when they return home after an absence. And realized I had no keys. I searched the pack, the backpack, the car - no keys. Thinking the last time I had been aware of them had been searching through my jacket pockets, in front of the jet engine air conditioner - which would drown out any sound - we climbed back in the car and drove downtown to search the area, having previously called the hotel to enquire after any lost items turned into the lobby. We looked under every car - thinking someone may have kicked them but not heard over the A/C - and counterintuitively ransacked our room. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Appalled by this breakdown in the laws of physics, we prepared for me to take her to work on Monday, as naturally the Toyota service center was not open on Sunday. So we went to bed, got up in the morning and fulfilled our morning routines and began to prepare. I got dressed, and pulled the extra carabiner out of my dresser. Walking into the living room, I reached back to clip it onto my habitual belt loop, but I felt an obstruction. Looking down, there were my keys on the carabiner clipped to the belt loop of the pants I had not removed from the suitcase. I began to laugh, then wonder, then laugh again.


Having just watched Leslie Bohem’s masterpieceTaken for the second time (in ten years), I am left with the overall feeling of Questions are more Important than Answers!

Email Me