Obama sings

This particular weekend

About Time

I hear a lot from people who want me to mention them in this blog. Well, not a lot. There is Winter Storm, who pesters me for a mention, but until this second, I have resisted. How about Mr. Anger? I have mentioned him a few times, depends on his mood, because he reads the blog and writes me cryptic notes if he thinks I am secretly writing about him. It takes some ego to think a diatribe about the first African American president is somehow related to Mr. Anger, but there you have it. My Dumb Friend has asked me why I have not included him and our silly history in here, and then I remind him, "dude, you are always there, somewhere..." That should keep him busy.

I was just thinking, on my way home from West Virginia, which is amazingly beautiful, how many women I love. Well, first I was thinking about the women I have loved. Whenever my mind focuses on past love, She is always the first to appear. She was the first person I ever fell madly in love with, possibly the only one whom I actually fell madly in love with. Love is such a strange thing, with power of first blush, and kissing and passion all mixed together is such an explosive package, no wonder it fails us so many times in life. She was so dynamic and smart, beautiful, sensual and just a slight bit crazy, which happens to be the way I like them.

We stay in touch, she and I. Spent the night together a couple of years ago, after a night out, sharing a meal and memories. She remains grounded, beautiful and still sexy as all get out. She has parenting advice for me, which is always helpful, since I have only about 300 close friends who are always offering parenting advice.

Speaking of advice, I hardly ever mention children in this blog and for good reason. First, just recently I found out, to my shock and horror, that not only do they read this from time to time, but friends of theirs do too. Which is much worse, because if you read back to some of the early posts, or email for links to last years blog, you see some very personal stories, some very sad stories and some incredibly nasty and graphic stories. All true. For the most part.

I do have a couple of children that live with me. And I am about to make that big dramatic turn that is so much fun to do. See, when I fell madly in love for the first time, and it fell apart (as it has often done in my life) I actually believed that I could never fall in love like that again. Then a couple of years later, while living in Los Angeles, I fell madly in love again, but that ended even more tragically. There is a point here, and that is that the first blush of real adult type love is so powerful and when it ends, if it does, it does not have to, but for many people it does, when it does end, it hurts so bad and you kind of make a promise to yourself to never fall so madly in love because when it ends, it hurts.

I felt that way for a long time, protecting some sort of interior love thing that allowed me to move from relationship to friends with benefits, to all sorts of other derivative relationships and on and on. Then these babies showed up, how, I am not quite sure, but one day, there they were and a few months later, it was them and me, alone. I will never forget when they did show up, because the love you feel for babies that you made is even more powerful than the love you feel for sexy people who wink at you and ask you out on a date.

Now I have a son and as his father, we are working out our adult relationship. I have two daughters whom I could not imagine life without. Well, sometimes I imagine life without them, but that never lasts long, and when I come back to reality, I realize I am not only madly in love with them, but blessed in a very deep way to be a part of their lives. Both are amazing and smart and beautiful and easy on the eyes and fun to be around. Once or twice, possibly more, but I forget, we do not get along. Here is the thing about hands on parenting, as they age you realize what a gift it has been to spend days with them, countless hours playing catch or drawing birds or throwing rocks in the water or simply napping. I know some people who have, for whatever reasons, had child care professionals raise their children and for the life of me, I don't get that. Even on the worst days with children around, in retrospect, those are some of the best days.

Fathers and daughters have unique relationships. It has been my experience, as both a brother to a sister and a father to two daughters, that mothers and daughters do not always have the same profound relationships as fathers do with their daughters. I have given this some thought, and one thing I think causes conflict is that as a daughter matures and gets talkative and fun to be around, fathers often feel protective, so they spend more time with their daughters, while this is happening, sometimes a mother will become jealous of the time spent with the daughter and instead of actually talking to her husband, she grows resentful. What I have seen countless times is that as the daughter begins to grow up and become a young woman, the mother grows more distant towards her flourishing daughter and to make up for that divide, the father invests even more time with his daughter. A vicious cycle begins and mothers, who look in the mirror and see the effects of parenting and age, and then look at the youth and vitality of their daughter, and become jealous of the attention their husband now showers on the girls, grow ever more resentful. Again, I have seen this numerous times, it is not true with all mother daughters, but it is true enough.

I think I have decent relationships with both of the girls who currently live rent-free here. They both bring so much to the table, in terms of beauty and brains, that I am almost always happy just to be near them. They need me less and less in their lives, I am barely a driver for them at this point. I like to watch them. Over the past decade they have matured beyond anything I could have imagined.

At some point I really believed I could never be powerfully in love again. I thought my heart had hardened and I could never just love without fear. Daughters give you that gift of loving without worry. Years ago I could not imagine loving so deeply, and yet, I know my days with them are numbered. Part of the job of parenting it knowing that someday you need to fade to the background. It is happening on almost a daily basis and in some ways I hate it. They will love someone else, hopefully madly and passionately. They will move on, move out, move away. I know it, they know, hell they remind me of it on almost a daily basis, and yet I love them, my daughters, because they are amazing and beautiful and stunningly brilliant in their own ways and I will always, for as long as I breath, love them with all my heart.

Comments and Inception

First, stop emailing me with comments to posts. You don't like Poo, I get it. Comment on the fucking blog. I never ever answer email from people I don't know. Ever. Well, I did once, and it ended badly.

A week or so ago I went on a date and we saw Inception, the best movie of the year. It hurt a little because as many of you know, I once dated Leonardo DiCaprio, for a short time, but it was intense. Anyway, it is a great movie. Go see it. I would say, get really stoned first.

Anyway, watch it.

Poo

Hello people who have pets that are walked in cities.

A couple of years ago I was living on a farm in upstate New York. The kids and I adopted an angry lesbian Australian Shepard who has come to accept our defects and actually seems to enjoy our company. While we lived on a farm, she basically had freedom like no dog should ever have. She could come and go as she liked, enjoy the cool waters of the large reservoir nearby and even order pizza is she felt like it. That last part is a lie, but she does like pizza.

I know she made dog poo somewhere on that farm, but where it was never seemed to be important to me. She was secretive about it and I was fine with that. Then we moved to a city and this dog that had acres of land to run and play in, was all of a sudden a house dog, a city dweller. When she went for a walk, we carried a plastic bag and when she pooped, we picked it up like some sort of golden nugget. We bring these precious bags back to our house and dispose of them in a humane fashion.

So, today, I was walking to the Apple Store and low and behold, a small back on someones stairs. Plastic bag. With dog poo in it. My mind whirled. Is this a protest? A hate crime? Did someone just drop it by accident? When I am carrying a bag of poo I know exactly where it is at all times, like a nuclear scientist handling a glowing rod of danger. No one could just lose a bag of poo.

So, I am thinking, someone went through the trouble of walking their dog, bringing a bag, bagging the poo and then? Then they just left it? Stranger things have happened, stranger things have captured my attention, but my question of the day is why? Why do it? Why pick up the poo if you are just going to drop it somewhere? Why not just let your dog poo wherever it feels is appropriate? Why leave it on my path to the Apple Store and not, say, near a Gap Store? Truth be told, there is a Gap Store near the Apple Store, but let's not change the subject.

So I say, to the poo person, please go that last step, from walking the dog, to picking up after the dog, to actually disposing of the bag, so those of us walking around on a beautiful day will not have to view a steaming bag of dog poo.

Thank you.

Well, unless that dog poo really is golden.

In this economy

I may be lucky, I have friends from all strata of life, from highly educated and super successful to high school drop out and working minimum wage. I have always seemed to fit somewhere in between, not the dimmest bulb in the socket, not the lowest paid worker on the line.

I got a call yesterday from a friend who has often been in the same boat as myself. Working, making some money, sometimes more, sometimes less. Now he is making nothing. Laid off a month ago, he was convinced his skills, both technical and people, would land him something, quickly. That has not been the case.

What do you do when you are closer in age to retirement than college? It is a question more and more people seem to be making. It seems that we have entered a new phase of economics, where the most skilled, the most talented and being passed over for the cheapest worker, no matter what it is they bring to the table. Mind you, I have hired people before, and sometimes the only option is to hire the person willing to work for the lowest wage. Maybe that is the case with most jobs now.

My sense is that most businesses are as nervous as most workers when it comes to the future of America. This has nothing to do with who the president is, but more likely, who the president was. In my opinion, and I had a very heated argument during a dinner in Philadelphia this past week, George Bush is the worst president of my lifetime, and this is a lifetime that includes Richard Nixon. In some ways, Bush has been a brilliant manipulator of economics and fear. He was able to get huge tax breaks for the richest Americans and get the rest of us so worried about the next terror attack that very few of us bothered to look at the evidence that Iraq was conspiring to actually attack, or do much of anything else.

You do those two things, lower taxes in a time of war and lie a country into a war that has no end plan, and you doom a generation to bewilderment and cynicism. To do this while talking a good game of bipartisanship, all the while loading the supreme court with the most conservative judges in recent history is another milestone that will not soon be forgotten. Juggling these missteps would be enough for most presidents trying to ruin our country, but instead and sitting back in the Texas ranch and thinking he had really thrown a wrench into the American system of equality and capitalism, Bush borrowed and spent like a bimbo with a gold card. His debts, his spending, his growth of government, use of torture and other war crimes will certainly lead many to name his worst president ever, but what he also seems to have done is leave the country in such a funk that there does not appear to be an easy way out.

Generally, over the past 20 years or so, the economy has found a new bubble to inflate. Investors could not throw enough money at the internet bubble in the 90's. The housing market followed when internet stocks went from thousands to pennies. The housing market, again in part thanks to George Bush and his economic policies, burst big time, we were left with trillions of dollars of bad investments. What to do those mega millionaire investors who hover over Wall Street must have been saying. Where is the next bubble?

What if we are out of bubbles? Having sent many regular manufacturing jobs into slave labor camps in third world countries, many people in America are finding it impossible to find a regular job. President Obama seems preoccupied with silliness and accepting bills that are so watered down as to be meaningless, other leaders, like the Palins and Gingriches, have no new ideas and resort to, imagine this, more tax cuts for the wealthy. A country at drift, fighting two endless wars, having been lied to and bankrupted by a president with no vision, and now, alone in supremacy and deeply in debt to other countries, we must find a way to not only create a stable economy, but actually nurture and grow one.

My job searching friend is looking everywhere, way beyond our borders even, not for a well paying job with outlandish benefits, but for work that pays. I wished him the best and offered a room just in case. How did we get here and how do we get back?

Sunday visual

Philadelphia

I just spent a week in Philadelphia. I have spent plenty of time in this city and I almost always like it. Great food, great downtown hotels and some amazingly beautiful people. Here is how you can judge a great big city, how many languages you hear from the beautiful people you pass in the street.

In my city, Pittsburgh, you generally hear two languages, American English and Pittsburgh slang, instead of the football team called the Steelers, people from Pittsburgh say "Stillers". Go figure.

Anyway, while there was some nightmare possibilities in Philly, checking in after midnight and having the hotel lose my reservation, the entire experience was close to amazing. I sat in a room with the man with the round face. Imagine this, an audition for the human version of the mooon, and this guy would get cast. Incredibly round face, with just the tiniest of brains.

I met a very smart lawyer from the midwest. I am generally not a fan of people from the midwest because they are often kind of insecure about being from the midwest. You can only experience fly-over status for so long without getting all bent out of shape regarding you self esteem. This guy was above that, just smart, funny and incredibly professional.

What is really great about Philadelphia is that it is an honest to god city in America. There really are not many, New York, Chicago and Philadelphia are on my list. The West Coast has San Francisco, and that is really kind of a boring city in terms of culture and just plain city life.

Oh, before I get back to sweating in the humidity that is my life, I should say I am sorry about the lack of posts. I have been guest blogging and focused on that and editing two films. Plus, I am focused on this new job, which I think I am accepting today. That and there was a storm of evil that hit like a hurricane and faded almost as quickly. Busy week, but back at home, back with my lesbian dog and her even tempered lover Moma Kitty.

More when I get done sweating.

Death on a Saturday

Here is a short film I did on a Brooklyn artist who was nice enough to play this for me and an assistant when we were in her studio to do a short film on her art work. I no longer have a copy of this film, so it is kind of nice to find it and share it once again.


Eight Waves

Nina Katchadourian | MySpace Music Videos

Good fences

We have been building fences in our yard this summer. First a small one that runs between our house and my large loud neighbor. She, the rotund woman who sits on her porch and talks at such a loud level that sometimes I wake to hear her berating birds. She not crazy, she loud.

I did not build the fence to shut her up, and of course, it has not happened. I did build it to discourage people from walking between her house and mine. That has worked. The second smaller fence was in the back of the house, between a neighbors garage and my garage. That went up fast and it has no purpose but to dissuade walkers from coming between the garages. No one has ever done that anyway, but it seemed like a wise thing to do.

Today we put a fence between us and the neighbor on the other side, but since no one lives in that big beautiful brick home, it is a fence to again keep people in and keep Beth the super dog in our yard. We have about 30 feet more of fence to go before Beth has her own space.

I was wondering how important space is. I just saw a video on a man who lives in a home that is about 90 square feet. I have been living in homes that are generally between 2500 and 3000 square feet, but then, for the most part, I have had children living with me and anyone who has had children living with them knows that the more space, the more peace.

In a large enough home you can accomplish quite a bit. In one room I can paint pretty pictures and in another, I can ride my bike indoors since I remain paranoid about riding on the streets. Children occupy a couple of other rooms and the attic space has been magically transformed into a beautiful modern bedroom, where I am laying on a comfortable bed, writing this post.

Space is important to me, but as I watched the man living in less than 100 square feet, I kind of lusted after that lifestyle. The bill of goods we get sold in our country is that the more successful you are, the more home you can afford. This was, of course, the mantra prior to the housing bubble bursting. I am not sure that the obese American is ready to move into tighter spaces, but I imagine that in a decade or so, as I prepare to leave this world behind, a small home, in a beautiful place, might be just about perfect.

Painting takes up a lot of space and I need a lot of space for the paintings I do. Maybe I would need two small homes, one for me and my love and possibly even Beth, the other for creative output.

For now, for the next 3-5 years, we will stay in this house, with all this space, with a couple of the children, and live happily, I am sure. The fence will do their job, Beth will find her outdoor grove again and for a while, this will function as home. For a while home was always where my bike was, then my paintbrushes, then the children and now, home is this big old house, with fences, loud neighbors and the meth boys across the street.

Freedom of choice

Isn't it funny that we are fed all sorts of messages from a very young age in America, one is that we are the greatest country on earth, probably the greatest country in the history of the world and the other is that we have some sort of freedom in our country that is better than anything else, ever.

It starts with the pledge of allegiance and continues on through all our education systems, small words, secret handshakes, all that stuff, about what a great country we have and don't get me wrong, we have a great country, but it is not perfect and pointing that fact out does not make someone hate their country.

Last night I did this art walk thing downtown. First time I have done it here, but I have lived in a few cities and I have taken part in these sorts of nights before. This one was not much different, although I would like to see a more vibrant arts community. I lived in Seattle for many years and the arts night, first thursday, whatever it is called, is a huge event. The sad part about Seattle is that there are so many hippy bone heads that the open air arts night becomes a mess of non-judgemental crap sales. It's as bad as a grateful dead show, without the boring music.

In Pittsburgh, the night is sweet. Not many galleries, but the cultural area on a hot friday night, with the bars and restaurants open and attracting business, the galleries all had mediocre shows up and some of the theaters offered new works and free admission. Even the Planned Parenthood offices were open, with art on the walls (terrible, terrible art) and free condoms. I have written about the almost constant protests I have run across at the Planned Parenthood offices and this was my first time actually in the building. Just to be clear, we live in a country where it is OK for old, white, sad men can stand in front of an office with pictures of aborted babies and scream at women. Freedom, taste it.

The Planned Parenthood offices were nice, but what I found sad was how much security they are forced to have. This is what I find frustrating about the rights and freedoms we do have in America. I once, long ago, had an encounter with a man who had just moved to this country from Poland. He had been a member of the Solidarity movement and he had been beaten at a factory in Warsaw, which for him was the last straw. The union he was a part of was fighting for living wages, fair working conditions and a fairly normal work schedule. For this he was beaten. When I met him in New York, early 80's I believe, I mentioned to him how proud I was to just meet someone who had been in the streets, fighting for his rights. He kind of shrugged it off and I reminded him that in America we have the freedom to protest and march and demand rights. He laughed at me and asked me, "when was the last time your protests led to anything?"

That encounter often plays through my mind. I was too young to be part of any Vietnam marches, but my sense is that there was 2 or 3 real committed people, the rest were sheep who wanted to get laid and smoke pot. I was in New York at the end of the 84 election, with hundreds of thousands of people lining 7th Avenue to hear Walter Mondale declare victory, that was the day before he was trounced. I was in the streets photographing protesters at the infamous WTO rally in Seattle in the 90's. While the protests garnered world wide attention, nothing changed and the broken windows and police brutality were quickly forgotten. In 2003 my young daughter and I marched in Seattle as part of a world wide protest of millions of people against the war in Iraq. When I last checked, our army was still in Iraq. Last September I was brutally beaten in Pittsburgh by police, who were in the process of tear gassing and beating protests at the G-20 meeting. Again, lots of protests and words, no change in police.

So, my friend from Poland was right. We do have the ability to march in the streets, scream and yell and send thousands and millions of letters, email and other messages to our elected leaders, but it seems, hardly anything ever changes.

Which brings me back to the propaganda that we, in America, are fed from a very early age, that we are the greatest, smarted, most able people in the greatest country, etc. This may be true, in some form, but I do not see it so much anymore. I see a divided country, torn by racism and sexism and money. In such a rich country, how can so many be destitute and in the streets? I love that people can make a lot of money in this country, but I never understand how we can be out on a friday night and step over our fellow citizens as they lay in the streets. In my mind, as a child, I always thought we were better than that.

Fathers

I posted earlier about the loss of my father before he had a chance to meet my son, his grandson.

A moment. As my son, a baby really, and I drove to pick up my wife, this son came on the radio. I think I played it all afternoon and when I hear it, I think of him, my father, that day, my baby in his seat. Listening to this song brings back a moment I doubt I could ever forget, and for that I am thankful.

How technology can make you cry

In 1991 I was the luckiest man in the world, because right about March 31 a baby boy was born, a boy who was supposed to be named Jupiter, but one of the top two grandmothers in the world lobbied hard, and so he just became Boodle.

He was and is kind of perfect is just about every way. The love the blossomed the sweet spring morning has continued unabated for almost two decades. Just a couple of days ago, full of powerful determination he returned to the Pacific Northwest to continue his life.

When he was still tiny, maybe 7-8 months old, I was in our Seattle house, working on some sheet rock and the phone rang. It was my mother, who had yet to meet her first grandson. My father had been sick and they had not made the flight to Seattle. She called that day to tell me my father had a massive heart attack and died. Just like that. Gone.

He was an interesting man. A powerfully smart and wickedly funny man, he deserved to meet this young boy, he should have met this young boy, but then he was gone. The light at the top of the stairs flickered and burned out.

I am not sure I have ever understood what he missed. I will never know what my son missed by not meeting his grandfather.

Today I saw this commercial below and it made me sad and smile and cry. Imagine how technology today is allowing all sorts of interactions and meetings that were unthinkable just two decades ago.

Gay Marriage - international edition

It's interesting to me that when we, we in America, talk about gay marriage, we get all caught up in baby making and tradition and social benefits and sometimes people talk about the gross things homo's do to one another when naked.

We, those of us in America, sometimes forget that there actually might be a gay or two living someplace else. Someplace they play soccer, and drink beer and smile at one another and speak foreign languages that almost always sound sexy.

Zombies in Portland

A car full of people dressed as zombies crashed on Interstate 84 near downtown Portland on Friday, causing initial confusion by people who witnessed the crash.
Portland Police said the car was swerving in the eastbound lanes of the freeway just east of the Lloyd District just after 9:30 p.m. when it rolled over and crashed onto its top.
Emergency crews took five victims from the crash to area hospitals with non-life-threatening injuries.
Police said that in their investigation they learned that the people inside the car were dressed as zombie costumes and they were headed to a party at the time of the crash.
Sgt. Greg Stewart said people who witnessed the crash initially thought the victims' injuries were much more serious, because of the zombie costumes.
"We're glad that everyone is alive, despite being 'undead'," Sgt. Stewart said, referring to the costumes.
While everyone in the car was taken to the hospital, Stewart said crews are investigating the possibility that more people were in the car at the time of the crash but fled the scene on foot.
The crash halted traffic in the eastbound lanes for about an hour, reducing travel to just one lane. All eastbound lanes were opened at around 11 p.m.

Why do I love Portland so much? I almost moved there and would have, had I known what Seattle had in store for me so many years ago.

Another reason I continue to love Portland, I think THIS article has it all.

Mell Gibson meet Sarah Palin

I once had a very dear friend, who was going through a divorce, and when I proclaimed my astonishment, she confided in me that her soon to be ex-husband was very abusive, behind closed doors. She said, "we never know how people are when others do not see their actions."

This has stuck with me for many many years. When I was going through a divorce sometime later, I would use the same term, although not because of some sort of abuse. It is just that we all experience all the sides of a person when we spend enough time with them, and sometimes those hidden sides should have remained hidden.

Case in point, Mel Gibson, former actor, former Australian, still crazy christian. His former girlfriend recorded one of his various rants and it is beyond scary. Every couple has disagreements, Mel, well known for his hatred of Jews, now seems to hate everything from breasts, tight pants and black people. Here is what Radar has posted. "The conversation begins with Gibson ordering his girlfriend to "fucking get rid of" the "foreign bodies" in her breasts. Then he rambles about her wearing "tight pants so you can see your fucking pussy." He calls her a whore and tells her he doesn't love her. "Stay in the fucking house," he yells. "But I don't want you anymore." And, to the steel-stomached few who got through the entire recording: Is it just me, or does the infamous "fucking pig in heat" line sound more like "fucking bitch in heat".

So, it does not shock me. People, many people, have some sort of hate in their heart, that they hide behind and keep hidden from most people, until it spills out in awkward and uncomfortable times.

But please, try not to feel sorry for Mel for being secretly recorded. We were warned.

Dummies in charge

This week I spent a day listening to a retired CEO talk about what his life was like. Mostly I don't care what the super rich think about things, because, quite honestly, for the most part, the bore me. Everything is measured in money, happiness, success, life in general, kids - everything.

Not this guy. He worked his way up from college graduate to CEO and chairman of one of the largest companies in the world. He was funny and sweet, in that older man sort of way, and every now and then, I realized as he was speaking of his job as head of one of the worlds largest and most successful companies, he was stupid.

When I was taking a year off college a long time ago, I got a job in the heat of a Southern California summer working for a landscaping company. I was low man on the totem pole, which meant that I dug homes for one gallon plants. There were 5 of us on the crew, a foreman and 4 low men on totem pole worker bees. For one week we dug in the hardened Southern California soil, busting our backs to dig these holes, down long stretches of newly developed suburban developments. It was hell, but I dug as many, if not more perfect little holes as anyone else. I wanted to prove I could do it. One thing I noticed quickly, that one of the other workers was slow, stupid and unreliable. He could not, for the life of him, dig a hole that could handle a 1 gallon plant. He could not dig in a straight line, and if every hole had to be 2 feet apart, he would screw that up too. In no time, he was raised to assistant foreman and given a small tractor to drive around.

I was shocked. I could dig accurate, beautiful, deep holes all day long, and never complain. Then it dawned on me, I was too good at hole digging, there was no reason to reward me, I was competent and trustworthy. I could do the job. As the summer rolled on, I kept seeing the same thing happen, the slowest, stupidest or stonedest rose to new levels of management, or at least as high as management goes on a landscape crew. I stayed at hole digger, but a damn good hold digger.

It was a life lesson learning kind of summer. First I learned that sometimes, in many types of working environments, companies will keep the best workers at the lowest level, while elevating the stupidest. I also learned I hated working for idiots.

So, imagine my surprise to be sitting in a room with the former CEO of one of the most successful companies in the world, with a diverse product line and a variety of companies he purchased during his tenure, a real world leader. The strange thing, the CEO was a dummy. He could not remember why a certain company was purchased, or for how much. He could not remember if it was during his tenure that his company was fined over 100 million dollars by the United States Government. He was surprised to hear about it. Often, when asked a question on the well known history of his company, he would shrug and say, "well, I tried to keep my nose out of the day to day business."

Now, do not get me wrong, he seems to be a very sweet man. He is married, has some wonderful children, he cares for his family, his wife and his home. He is happy. What he also is is slow witted, kind of dumb and not really connected to the goings on around him. As I listened to him trying to explain his corporate leadership style "I lead, people listen, we get things done" and how acquiring other companies was often done against his will "I was in charge, that did not mean I had final say so," I kept thinking to myself of the incompetent hole digger from many years ago, mocking me from the seat of his tractor, as I sweated and winced in pain digging holes in the dry Southern California ground.

You do not have to be brilliant to be rewarded with leadership, you just have to be adequate, and certainly not the best.

Hell called

The weather up here is delightful. Thank you so much.

oh my god

It is very hot here, all the time. I am writing this at 10:30 at night and it is about a million degrees and my skin has melted, that is right, bone on keyboard.

I watched this incredibly large woman in a motorized wheelchair moving down the road, she stopped and pulled up to a curb, and then she stood and walked to a house, opened the door and waddled in. She was so large her breasts had become her stomach, large. But she walked, thank the good lord sweet jesus.

I am not sure what it is about heat, but it slows everything down, our movements, our thinking, the very act of trying to cool off starts in slow motion and only gets worse. My second shower of the day was warm, the water washed sweat and dust off me, then I slowly turned the hot water off, until I was in a very cold shower. It felt so good I did not want to leave. When I did, I immediately was hot again.

It is too hot to write, with a hot laptop on my naked legs.

Hot as hell, and the plan is to keep it this way for a while.

Happy with that new phone yet?

Happy Independence Day

In honor of the World Cup

Guest blogging

Oh my, I think I warned you and now it has happened and I am everything this side of embarrassed.

Surprisingly, I get asked all the time if I would like to guest blog for other bloggers. That is, well, not true. But I do get asked and sometimes I say no.

For a week or so I am sending in some important guest blogging shit and here is a link to the first one.

Have a great holiday weekend. If you would like to guest blog on this site, drop me an email. Anyone can do it, I am nothing if not proof of that.