Monday, December 29, 2008

The Triplets of Bayview

This morning, sitting on our balcony I witnessed one of the most amazing sites I have ever seen. In the spirit of story telling, I thought I would share. Happy Holidays.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

A Battle at Dawn

Despite the small delay due to vacation, I have wanted to write this piece for some time. First of all it introduces you to what I hope will be a frequent character, Geronimo, my 1984 bronze Jeep Cherokee. However, this story itself has always been a great representation of the humor, the tensions, and the friendships between siblings as they make their way toward adulthood. I am sure that my brother will refute the facts, and perhaps he will post his own version, glorious and triumphant in his own way. That being said, I hope you enjoy.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

A Dog's Day

In the spirit of Halloween, I thought I would write of one of my favorite, yet most gruesome stories. It is gruesome in my memory because it was traumatic to witness. However, I have found that as I have moved farther and farther way from the world of country living, it is the simple premise that makes most of my audience squirm. Thus, let me begin with a quick note that the rules of land as described herein are built on traditions and notions of protecting your livelihood. Over the years I have been conflicted deeply with these “rules” but as age brings conservatism, I find myself more open to accepting that it is, and will be “just the way things are.” I do not write this as an opener for debate about animal rights and cruelty or any version of urban defined country ignorance. It is story, true as to my memory, and I shall leave it at that.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

The Bailout

So in the void of literary babbles that I intended this blog to be, today I write about the bailout.

As politicians ponder, pander and politic, the question remains what is going to happen to the US economy. I have spoken with many bright minds and read the chants of those dimmer flashes. Those in the know seem to be lost and unsure of the benefits of the plan, while Joe America screams foul for over paid CEOs and the potential for raised taxes. So here are my thoughts, albethem from a liberally educated, avoid economics, self-proclaimed dummy in regards to the markets. Thus I must warn you that in no way do I suppose or presume that I speak the truth except to the extent that I assure myself that I am right so that I will sleep well tonight.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

What's In a Name?

So this was intended to be a short intro to an essay that I am working on. Unfortunately, I was whipped viciously by the rambles and in the end I have a long rant of nothingness to present to the world. Enjoy or don’t.

Names are a peculiar instrument of human existence. They are the verbal recognition of one’s being by another. As time passes they are but single word descriptors of one’s whole existence, purpose and role. A name is the singular, yet complicated, answer to “Who am I?” or “Who are you?”

Monday, March 03, 2008

Whoo Whoo Whoo

Over the top a bit, but I needed to get things going as apparently once a week so quickly has become once a month. To more effort!!! Cheers.

Whooo whooo whoooo, soft and gently whispered across a morning wake not that long ago. The call of a mysterious bird stood out amongst the plops and bangs of the urban awakening.

Saturday, February 02, 2008


So this is an excerpt of a long term project (5 yrs.) that I am working on. The story I have compiled for last week is being retinkered (think Poe and a mourning dove who-who-who) so I feel like i needed to get some things out there. Here's ya go.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

A Drive Home

Tussling with the thought of my return from the snowy north, I am always perplexed by the confusion of dealing with a South Florida December that befuddles the senses and nags like that yearning for activity on a rainy day. Slightly itchy from the ironic thought of cabin fever where there is no cabin and nothing enveloping me with obstructive capture, this time of year is riddled with the joy of living in such a place and being eerily displaced. Up north, in the cold, dreary grays of hillsides scattered with the arborous skeletons we associate the faded sun and dim afternoons with December, with winter and big coats.
In south Florida we associate the same dwindling day with vacant memories of dreary December days up north. We find the result of Earth's natural tilt to be less poetic and quite simply an inconvenient end to a beautiful day, a rude halt to a fine sandy nap. For the working day, the shortened sunlight causes us to miss the brilliant light show of sunsets as we drive home in a darkness that is half past dusk. All of the joys and beauties of a South Florida winter hidden away behind far off western glimmers of the fading day that we see from the top of an overpass. It is a peculiar feeling, that I still have not found to fit my skin. And yet, every once in a while, that moment arrives.
A day off , an unintentionally mapped trip home and in a I am struck by awesome displays. It was last weekend that I had this moment. Driving the same route that caused a ghostly giant of a moon to peak from behind the eastern skylined view of downtown Miami with such enormity that I stuttered in thought as the paranoia of too many sci-fi thrillers set a panic up my spine. It was along this same bone chilling route that I was presented with the constant but gentle fading scene of a fade to twilight.

As I sat at the light preparing to turn to the east, I notice a swarm, a flock, a parcel, a murder of black silhouetted birds. Too small to be crows, too fat to be grackles, the plump rounded little bodies flapped little wings and danced in and out of the dark power lines that criss crossed a Mediterranean blue sky. Warm and alive, the scattered scene sat boldly framed through my windshield. When the light changed colors, I turned left up into the same scene that I was admiring. With each second it seemed, the crystalline blue began to fade deeper into royal hues. The same dance splashed the canvas as if the busy movement of birds had gently painted reds with each passing flutter. I drove under the swarming madness and followed it through the rear view mirror. Above the image of trailing traffic the silhouetted scene had plastered itself into a buttery froth of saffron and golden yellows of a western sky as it faded away gentle from my view into massive flash of shimmers and shines of sunbeams across the tops of moving vehicles. Like a responsible driver, I turned my eyes to focus on the road ahead. As downtown's sharp boxy lines stood out before a drooping blue sky that had now edged into a subtle pink along the horizon. My eyes moved across the panoramic and realized that I had entered that fleeting moment where Miami derives its colors. It was the moment that inspired the colors of the Dolphins' uniforms. It was the moment that gave Don Johnson license to wear pastelly pinks and baby blues. Like a Baby Gap ad across the sky, the blues moved overhead and met with pinks a quarter past the horizon in a shimmer of white. As quickly as arrived the moment faded away. The light began to dim. Only the reflection that glassed the windows of downtown peeked any noticeable color. And with less than a poof, it was gone. The dotted lights of high rises outlined the dark shadows of the passing buildings. A twilight blue had settled into the sky, deep and long, letting us know that night would soon come.