I'm a doper. Plain and simple. I take performance enhancing drugs to edge out my daily opponent, bipolar depression. I am resistant to conventional psychotropic medications which provide relief of mental illness symptoms from the inside out. That is, they access your bloodstream after roughly six weeks, then their therapeutic effects begin to take-hold; and … Continue reading All We Want Is An Edge
I think my mother coined this adage: However long you think it'll take, or, however much you think it'll cost, double it! Is it age? Competency? Vim and Vigor? How come we never see Martha Stewart experience the notorious exploding bag of flour, or Ty Pennington experience driving a wood chisel through his hand? Oh no, both … Continue reading You Can Remove A Gall Bladder Faster
I closed the door behind me and with it the toasty comfort and wafting aroma of brewing coffee. Turning to Jenni who was dancing at the gate, fall's early morning rigor prompted my quick donning of gloves. Carefully stepping down the frosted front stairs I blew into the air looking for the smoking gun, the … Continue reading Fall’s Early Mornings Are Still Night
I became Harold's (my father's name) youngest son when he was forty-nine years old. Forty-nine today isn't what it was in 1958, especially when you lived life full bore. By the time I became conscious of his presence (three years old) he'd already begun his initial descent. He had the looks of Walter Cronkite, the … Continue reading After 50 Years, I Can Speak My Father’s Language
It's like a rain delay during the sixth inning of the seventh game of the World Series; It's like everyone else forgot your birthday; It's like dining alone in, what was, your favorite restaurant; It's like all your clothes turned into varying shades of gray; It's like, who cares? It's like, I Want My Life … Continue reading Mental Illness: Metaphorically Speaking
I'm not sure how many of you receive the monthly periodical "Gimme Wood," but ever since March of this year when their centerfold was a beauty from Japan, I've been dreaming of getting my hands on one of them. I was so determined to get one that I engaged one of those traffickers in Japan to … Continue reading March’s Centerfold of “Gimme Wood”
Writing is like prostitution: At first you do it because you love it; then, you do it for a few friends; and finally, you do it for the money.