In which your hero is spared a life of arrogance and stunted creativity thanks to a relay race gone wrong and a pedophile.
Essays on life after 80 by a former poet laureate and musings on life at 56 by a random blogger of no particular note.
Definitely not whimsical. I wrote the first draft of this perhaps ten years ago and it reflects, as well as I could in hindsight, the funhouse mirror of my mind at 21. It wasn’t pretty. But if you love someone who is depressed, this might help you understand just a little bit better. If you are depressed, maybe it will give you a little bit of hope. For what it’s worth, I have not felt this way in decades.
We are tracked too aggressively on the web. I am opting out and, while you’re on my blog, I’m opting you out too.
The story of a visionary president, a moonshot and the most powerful toilet bowl cleaners known to man.
Down at the pmail warehouse, I’m scuba diving in my Incoming bin and CCing people like a dervish. If only I could find time to do some actual work.
Being an explanation of why blog categories just don’t work for me and why the navigation is so useless on this blog.
The really good ones do anyway.
Love. A little about us. A little about them. A little about nobody I actually know. A little about some trees I care about.
Some simple things are easy to learn. Some simple things are hard.