Fiction, music, poetry, and the occasional drawing…
My novel The Zoo was published by Cacoethes Publishing House and my poetry chapbook The New Normal was published by Analog Submission Press. Other poems and short stories have appeared in Subterranean Blue Poetry, The Journal of Microfiction, and Sick Lit Magazine, among others. Other works include a staged reading of my play Digging Up John Barrymore, performed by Dreamcatcher Entertainment, and five albums of original music recorded with my band Late Model Humans.
Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion. Life is a train of moods like a string of beads, and, as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue, and each shows only what lies in its focus. From the mountain we see a mountain.
Let’s go dancing through the minefield
one more time
or drift through a veil or two of consciousness.
We don’t need to live to tell the tale.
This tale will tell itself
in a language without words or sounds or pictures.
This tale will tell itself with light.
Antigua is an island bordered on one side by the Atlantic Ocean and on the other by the Caribbean Sea. The only things more beautiful than its beaches and the breeze filtering through the shade of its palm trees are its people.
The word vacation comes from the Latin vacare – to be empty. I spent last week on vacation in Antigua and was so busy being emptied that I only found time for three quick sketches. Sometimes even the enjoyable parts of life are a chore and I need emptiness to appreciate the fullness of the life I’m lucky enough to have.
I spent a healthy portion of my vacation with my eyes closed, not sure if I was asleep or meditating. The membrane between layers of consciousness becomes so thin that it would take a mind more analytical than mine to measure it.
There is a god and she has a plan for each of us, a puzzle
distributed at birth with one lifetime to solve it. We call it life, or
reality, or love, or time, or the universe, but the name we give it doesn’t
matter. Words are meaningless in the realm of gods.
It usually takes about 100 years to solve our puzzles and sometimes god lets us live that long. After we’ve logged seven or eight decades of work, she gets creative with us, laying traps to trip us up – dementia, exhaustion, hopelessness. She distracts us with the deaths of our most beloved companions and dreams. She muddies the water of our memories. She lays mines in the fields of those who are best at unraveling her riddles to be sure they are blown to pieces before they can share her secrets, and as a warning to the rest of us.
Wisdom comes with the realization that the joke is on us and the solution has always been the simplest one: to join the laughter.