I have always thought I was not scared to die, but I was a lot younger back then. Once I pranked my best friend who was chatting up a pretty girl, we were on the roof top of our college dorm, and while he wasn’t looking, I stepped over the handrail, and yelled “Hey Gary!” and pretended to jump off the building, dangling 11 stories above the ground with my hands. I happened to be going through some bad times back then, my mother had recently attempted suicide. Continue reading
My first busking experience was near a public market in Seattle about two years ago. I had 30 minutes before a doctor’s appointment so I played at the edge of the park lawn overlooking Elliot Bay. Boy there were lots of people sitting and talking and enjoying the great weather. I was nervous about breaking the din of noise with my fiddle. What would they like? A waltz, hoedown, or a rag? Fast or slow – perhaps some classical? There must have have been a hundred people in this little patch of urban green, and over a thousand tourists in the nearby Pike Place Market. A mounted policeman in place to maintain order. I asked if I needed a license, he said only in the market. In the end, I made a buck, I think I will frame it like you see some small businesses do, it is somewhere in my violin case. I had a gentleman encourage me to come back again as I rushed to my appointment. Continue reading
Two arms, both working,
Two legs, one swollen,
My back is killing me,
But no bullet holes. Continue reading
Soaring above the rotting, pulsating Kings,
Spiraling up the thermocline,
Stomach bursting with the fat of decaying flesh
Kindred spirits appear submerged deep beneath the blue-white sky Continue reading
One year ago I had a sharp abdominal pain under the right rib cage. I went to the hospital and was diagnosed with a very large tumor, liver cancer. Even though the tumor was twice as large as they normally will operate on, at 10 cm, I found a surgeon who convinced the tumor review board to allow him to cut it out. Otherwise he said I would be dead within the year as the cancer would spread to my lungs and brain. Continue reading
I am not a very good dancer. In fact I dance like a woman. After all, I have spent most of my life intently watching women dance, so why wouldn’t I dance like a woman? I watched Magic Mike last night with my wife of nearly 3 decades last night. Since there were no women dancing in the movie, I picked up some ideas on how a man might dance.
Got to go clean the Brazilian cherry hardwood floors now. Maybe I’ll practice a few moves.