
Why I Write #1
My father wrote newspaper headlines like a Zen master wrote haiku, with that much care and attention. He loved puns, and all sorts of wordplay,

My father wrote newspaper headlines like a Zen master wrote haiku, with that much care and attention. He loved puns, and all sorts of wordplay,


I write, but I don’t necessarily identify as a writer. However, I am susceptible to pain. So, if tortured I might confess to it. But

I’ve been thinking about the Afterlife lately, the “Other Side.” Many of my friends have no doubt it exists, others have no doubt it doesn’t.

Shit Happens is the low culture way of saying C’est la vie, or life isn’t just a bed of roses. Or maybe it is. We’re