Day whatever

It's been awhile since my last post, which seems to be a pattern among a few others I follow. As days slide into one another, the challenge of writing something relevant and meaningful has become a grind. Or maybe more to the point, I simply don't anything relevant or meaningful to say.

I do know that the concept of life itself is taking a hit. I've always been unimpressed by the practice of living, but these days it feels like flat gray on a canvas of sameness. What's the point? In my first novel, a characters asks his friends that question, and gets a quick answer that says it all: The point is sharp.

Seizure later.



Hope you're all hanging in there

The tragedy that's unfolding in our state and country from Republican incompetence is heartbreaking and maddening. God help us.

The point

The point is to live, laugh and love. In the end love is all that matters. And when you see something unjust, hurtful or hateful, speak up even at your own peril. The point is why you're writing here, you care


The happiness of the bee and the dolphin is to exist. For man it is to know that and to wonder at it. - Jacques Cousteau. I invite you to wonder at the promise of a new day of being content and happy.

Thank you

Have spent the day wondering, watching more poor puppy struggle with an unknown ailment. I suppose things can always get better, and then again, they can get worse too.

Sorry to be Debbie Downer. Rough day.