You mean to tell me you voted for that other guy?

I have drawn a great deal of criticism from friends, neighbors etc. about my choice in the presidential elections. I voted for the donkey guy... before you all attack and tell me why I made the right or wrong choice, know that I did not choose lightly and it was not without a great deal of trepidation about both candidates.



All this is brought to you from somewhere in a dark hallway.

Sandcastles in the Sand

You know...there is something therapeutic about making things out of giant piles of mud.

And if you are wondering about the title click on this link.

Sandcastles in the Sand

May Robyn sparkle down on the end of your summer too.

Am I Standing Still...

I laughed all afternoon at this.

Dut da da dut da da Dora...

I spent way too much time watching TV with my kids over the break. I can't help but see a similar pattern here. A friend pointed this out to me, and I thought others might enjoy. (Thanks Jordan)



Sometimes I feel an awful lot like Charlie...

What do I make anyway?

I have been studying Marxist theory for the last week and wondered where I fit into it all. At least now I know, at least...sort of, what I make.

Poetry and Disc Golf

I picked up an interesting hobby over the summer and find myself with a small bag of discs and an urge to throw them. Thought I would share a poem about it.

Freeman Park

The drunk his name is Bud, steps up to make
his throw: a God-damn backhand lazer beam 300
feet below. He shrugs still holding to the can
of beer in his left hand. He steps aside
as M. J. takes the pad. She breathes in deep,
she torques, unwinds from hip to head, exhales
sedated smoke that curls and rises up.
The fade is past the clump of pines, it lands
right next to Bud's. I move up for my shot,
still hoping to impress. Step, step, cross-step forward
I grunt as I let go. Wobbly at first
yet steady now, my forehand follow through
sshuck-clunk, I cringe, a ponderosa pine
26 feet above the ground, I guess
it's me who'll climb. Bud smiles, claps me
on the back and says, "all in good time."
A punk, the drunk, a stoner: disc golf at dusk
hole 10-par 4: four hundred fifty feet.