This is a pine cone sitting cockeyed on a dock.
It is a big pine cone, too. As a matter of fact, we determined that it was the biggest one we could find – and trust me, there were plenty.
So, why do I have a picture of an abnormally large pine cone sitting cockeyed on a dock? Could I not find any better photographs to tell you a story about my first summertime trip to Tahoe? A week chocked full of memories with old and new friends and the laughter of children in one of the most special places on Earth. Read the rest of this entry »
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. It has been nothing for a while now.
Nothing comes to me. Instead, I wander aimlessly around in this head of mine, trip on bitterness and wrestle with confusion. The feeling is a bit like a high pressure hose with a nasty kink. My muse has evaporated into thin air, leaving me with these rampant thoughts all jogging around in my head. No order – just jumping around, bumping into each other and not even bothering to say a fucking ‘excuse me’. Can’t seem to finish one before the next one starts. Read the rest of this entry »
Sharing a great post this morning by Alli Sim at Mmerci Encore on creativity.
In this post, she speaks of the infinite nature of creativity and notes that we were created to create. Well Hells Bells and Jiminy Christmas, this young lady could not be more dead on. Read the rest of this entry »
Tonight’s words are brought to you by the great poet, Kahlil Gibran.
The subject, none other than love. Read the rest of this entry »
Tonight, as I sit outside in the fall night with ants crawling across my lighted screen and the crickets singing “Angie” by the Rolling Stones, I am thinking back on the graces of my day.
This morning, I had the opportunity to spend one magnificent hour filled with ideas and insights with my associate and dear friend, Stephanie. She has always helped me to challenge the notion of perfection. This horrible and crippling belief that we need to have every cottin-picken thing all sorted out. Read the rest of this entry »
The Men That Don’t Fit In (insert a “wo” where appropriate)
by Robert Service
There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest. Read the rest of this entry »