On Art, Fear, the Sea of Cortez and A Day Well Lived

I have a friend who is involved in the independent art world. Over the years he has supported many self-described “starving artists” whose dedication to their dreams has inspired him to write checks, host fundraisers and promote their craft. When I told him that I was going to sponsor “some guy’s attempt to swim acrossContinue reading “On Art, Fear, the Sea of Cortez and A Day Well Lived”

On “Near Pressure” and the Quest for Perfection

When I was a kid, I learned all about peer pressure and how to deal with it. At some point, however, peer pressure morphed into what I’m calling “near pressure” (for no other reason than it rhymes with peer pressure). For the sake of these thoughts, I’m defining near pressure as the pressure I feelContinue reading “On “Near Pressure” and the Quest for Perfection”

On Broken Dreams, Raging Rapids and the Calm

I’m terribly behind in my thoughts. It’s not that I’m not having them. In fact, it’s just the opposite. Every time I sit down to write one thing, I end up starting 10 thoughts, but nothing finished. It makes me feel a bit manic. Crazy. Insane. What I should say is that I’m terribly behindContinue reading “On Broken Dreams, Raging Rapids and the Calm”

In Honor of Father’s Day: A Trying Decision

With Father’s Day just past, I thought I would revisit my old blog and post one of the very first (maybe THE first) “dad post” that I ever wrote (way back in October 2004). A TRYING DECISION To my knowledge, I’ve never gotten anyone pregnant. There was the one time in college when the condomContinue reading “In Honor of Father’s Day: A Trying Decision”

This is Bull(y)shit

My writing process is best described as herky-jerky. It’s usually a combination of starts and stops and starts again, as I look for the final groove that pushes me to finish whatever piece on which I’m working. The stops are usually spent online, as I try to calm my brain. And, sometimes, I’ll find somethingContinue reading “This is Bull(y)shit”

The Foreign Language of Feelings

“Hey dude I got the results back,” is how my dad started the conversation. “I have prostate cancer” is how he continued it before the silence. A silence, which probably only lasted a few seconds, but was long enough to allow for a lifetime of memories to rip through my head. Despite whatever challenges we’veContinue reading “The Foreign Language of Feelings”

Feeling the Burn (of 44 Candles)

“I can’t wait until I’m 10!” my son told me as we were driving to his friend’s sixth birthday party. When I pressed him to tell me what was so special about 10, he relayed enthusiastically, “Just because I want to be 10!” As I watched him bowl at the party, which was only aContinue reading “Feeling the Burn (of 44 Candles)”

A Dad Is A Dad Is A Dad

Admittedly, I was hammered when I put my hand on Carlos Santana’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. And, in retrospect, I consider myself incredibly lucky that his bodyguard didn’t forcibly remove me from the club, but my intentions were good. At that moment, I didn’t feel like I was trying to talk to CarlosContinue reading “A Dad Is A Dad Is A Dad”