The sketchbook project

Whilst my childhood friend helps Mom learn Windows 10 and Office 2016, I meditate.

I meditate upon my love for others, which used to spring forth from a tiny well but now that I know the well never runs dry I give love without end.

To my friends.

My family.

A love I used to keep to myself because of fears, worries that I wouldn’t fit in if others knew what I let people do to me un/willingly.

But now I know otherwise.

We live, and in living we gather memories that aren’t always pleasant but pleasantness and happiness aren’t the only colours on our palette.

We are deep hues, shades of visible light reflection and quantum entanglement.

I am me because of you.

My love is endless because you’re in my life, then, now, forever woven into the history of our species, reaching out into the cosmos.

My love is endless because I stopped asking why.

NOTE: Inert ingredients do not include the towelette

Lee leaned back against the Lexus RX300, facing Guin.

They had moved out of direct sunlight into the shade of a metal industrial building, drifting toward their motorcars.

They chatted with each other comfortably, eager to share their thoughts, wanting success to be theirs.

Family, love, friendship tied them together.

They spent time together.


They were together.

They gave each other love.

They were friends.

They had become family.

Love of dancing, happiness about their accomplishments, including dreams fulfilled, gave them more than hope.

As they chatted, as they set plans for more time spent together, they also set aside personal time for themselves, neither jealous nor upset that they were spending too little or too much time together.

They reached the point in their lives where they were no longer apart.

They were one in ways that transcended conventional spacetime, that transcended language.

As they chatted, they solidified their futures, melded their lives, meshed their networks.

They didn’t know everything about each other because they didn’t have to, the lack of knowledge replaced with trust, historical gaps filled with future plans.

They wanted to keep chatting, keep the small talk flowing, stay in each other’s presence, give up future plans with others to stay together in the now, in that moment that lasts forever.

Last time, Guin broke the spell they had on each other.

This time, Lee did.

Lee looked into Guin’s eyes, not wanting to leave.

He didn’t want to break the spell.

They parted, if only for a brief moment.

Lee had given up his daytime sleep to be with Guin, to complete plans with her, to set more plans in motion, plans that included revisiting the past.

To be continued…

Storytelling details

Any writer who has based character backstories/details upon the lives of friends and family understands that fudging facts helps keep reality from interfering with storytelling (unless autobiography is your preferred mode of narration).

What if the facts are so much more interesting than the fictional narrative?

What then?

I’ve been here before and decided to seek forgiveness later rather than ask permission to borrow from friends’ lives to make a story more believable.

So what’s the question?

The issue is the contradiction between the lives of those who read my writing and my friends whom I want to write about.

Time to start a new blog?

I’ve done it before and will do it again, I’m sure.

I’m a little rougher around the edges than I’ve usually let this online blog personality imply.

Advice to a small world

So what can I say? In a town full of suits, my wife and I walk into an office building on the square (where it’s hip to be square) and meet, much to our surprise, Kelly Moise, investment advisor for Dryden, Bound & Associates, also wife of Patrick, a new friend of ours.

Great to know that Kelley has finished several marathons which she compared to giving birth — you don’t remember the pain of the last one until you’re well-committed to the next.

We look forward to securing our financial future.

In the meantime, we enjoy good food and drink at Below The Radar Brewhouse, thx to George and the crew.

A Guinea Pig for Chemistry

Even behind-the-scenes writers and not-so-fortunate fortunetellers need a break every now and then.

All afternoon, I sat in a chair at the Salon Professional Academy while a friend, Tammie, coloured and cut my hair, changing me from a white-haired guy to a ginger-haired professorial type.

Thanks, Tammie, and to your colleagues, for the fun, friendship and new hairstyle.

Now, back to the story you know will keep you in your seats…

= = =

Thanks to MailPro; Richard, Ray and Julie at Lowe’s; USPS; B&N; Jonathan at Anaheim Chili.

Congrats to the NY Giants.