About This Blog

As time permits, in-depth musings on myriad subjects will be posted. Abbreviated adages will be announced via Twitter.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015


Today presented somewhat of an opportunity to do something I'd not done since I was a teenager:

Ride a bicycle and not wear a helmet. 

It wasn't a long excursion, but it was somewhat daring, dashing down Broadway, near downtown, aboard a rented B-Cycle. And, because lunch was something that had to be had—and Green was so close I could practically taste it—the decision was made to risk it and make the roughly one-mile trek there & back again sans skid lid. 

Fortunately, everything worked out fine and there were no near-misses with automobiles, nor were there any boneheaded moves made by moi—with the exception of the aforementioned missing helmet. It's not something I intend to make a habit of—in fact, my 30-mile outing on the Cannondale later in the day was made wearing my trusty Rudy Project Sterling. It's just...there was no space to pack one along, given how cramped the school bus was, to say nothing of the fact that there is no storage space to speak of for even a cup of coffee, let alone a bicycle helmet. 

But I digress. And I also need to get to sleep. 

Rest up, and don't forget your helmet each & every time you venture out on two wheels. And thanks for reading. 

Friday, January 23, 2015


The aroma hung in the air, as though it had been nailed in place, precariously and ever present though barely perceptible but to those with superior olfactory abilities. Like her.

Her sense of smell was so strong that scented anything was intolerable, exacerbating in her a near uncontrollable urge to either vomit or black out. There was little happy ground when it came to how things smelled, making this effervescent fragrance in the kitchen almost intoxicating to her. Yet the identity of the scent eluded her, leaving only a trace in her nostrils of its familiarity, like an old friend with an unforgettable face but with a name lost somewhere in the finite reaches of memory. 


The rain in Spain may fall mainly on the plain, but here it his the roof and the roads all around, making riding or running out of doors—for me or for The Boy—all but impossible. So I lay in bed, listening to the trickle, reminiscing of the sounds of the rain reverberating on the aluminum roof—and writing here. Why? Because I can. Because I must find something, some way of motivating myself to write, and what better means of giving new life to writing than the very substance giving new life to a parched planet. 

That and it's Friday. Yea, Friday. :)

Thanks for reading. 

Thursday, January 01, 2015

New Year

For calendar year 2014, I had hoped to resurrect this blog and write more than I had in years past. But, while I did write more in 2014 than I did in 2013, I wasn't as prolific as I had hoped. So, here I am on New Year's Day daring to again be a better and more contributing writer. Heaven knows neither the Web nor the world don't have enough of them. 

There is more I could say but won't, as I have gone into this post without a plan, and I really like having a plan before launching into some tirade or other. Besides, it's late, and I need rest; The Boy will be up at stupid o'clock in the morning, I'm sure, and he's a 2+ hour head start on me in terms of sleep so far this evening. 

Happy new year to you & yours, then, and thanks for reading.