What do I write


Every day I get a lot of “news feeds” which stream into my email, like magic. They appear, every morning, throughout the morning. Blip. And then. Blip.

It could be hard news, from CNN, or TIME, or the Wall Street Journal. And then there are other things, like fluffy feeds about Unicorns, or expiration dates on condiments, or the dirtiest places in your hotel room.

The range is as wide and deep as the Grand Canyon itself. But all this digital banter feeds the brain. It gives me things to think about. Then, as a result, I write those things down, here. And a few of you people actually read them.

It didn’t use to be about the words, this blog. In fact, there was very little writing at all.

It started out with my photography. I was trying to earn my Bachelor’s Degree, in Fine Arts, from fairly challenging program at the Academy of Art University in San Fransisco. As part of the curriculum, we were supposed to be shooting good images every day, and processing them. I wasn’t doing it like I should have.

So, I made a vow, that for 372 days, I would shoot and process one decent photo — online — every day — come hell or high water. And I called my newfound obligation, “Project 372. Because 365 days were not enough.”

And that’s how it started. To begin with, I think I had three consistent “viewers.” Mary, my partner; Ed, my brother; and Janet Crelin, my good friend. Ed and Janet still read every day, I think. Mary, when the wind blows.

Anyway, it started each day with a photo, and then a few lines describing the place, or thing, or person. That was that. I was faithful to the project.

Then it started to evolve. I’d see a banana peel on the sidewalk, and I couldn’t get over myself, imaging the car full of clowns, tormenting the streets of Charleston, racing up and down Meeting Street, sticking their big honking horns out the windows, and throwing around banana peels. And I’d have to convey the entire scene as it played out in my mind.

And then the words sort of took over.

The news feeds too. Some days, they are more interesting than others. This morning I read that in 1527, on this very date, this 16th of March, that the Battle of Khanua took place. It caught my eye because I thought it was the Battle of the Big Kahuna. That would have been better. The Big Kahuna. Two guys, out there in the middle of India, somewhere. Duking it out. Apparently, there was an Empire. It was the Mughal Empire. And the guy who ran the show was named Emperor Babur. This reminded me of Babar. The story of Babar who was a really cute elephant. Who wore clothes. As did his Mom and Dad, who were also elephants. I have not thought about Babar since I was seven. But any way, back to India. This Babur guy defeats the Rajput forces. I don’t know what kind of forces those are, but I supposed they came from a place call Rajput. That turned out to be wrong. Rajput is an Indian caste. A group of people. Somehow. And all those Rajput people were led by a guy named Rana Sanga.

But. Babur beat the crap out of Rana Sanga. I don’t know if this was a good thing, or a bad thing.

At all.

That was the news feed. And most of the times, I chose not to write about these types of stories, because they aren’t really helpful to anyone.

But, alerting you about a car full of clowns on the loose. Now that’s helpful.
Also, you really should throw out any condiments which have expired.
And the dirtiest place in your hotel room is the Remote Control, but don’t let that stop you. Because 81% of surfaces in every hotel room sampled, had some fecal bacteria on them. That’s 81%. Of everything in your hotel. Poop.

And once I read that, I completely forgot why I started writing today’s post.
So instead. I love you all. I’ll try to remember by tomorrow. But it definitely wasn’t Big Kahuna Battles.


“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.”
― Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums


“No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.”
― Robert Frost


“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”
― Frank Herbert