My idea of a balanced snack is having a cookie in both hands.

If anger puts a stick in your hand, take a deep breath, and find a dog to play fetch with you.

Everyone has some sort of darkness inside them. I am just thankful that mine has not yet been dangerous.

Grow up? Or grow into? Sometimes understanding is outside of our fathomable realm, something that only growth can accomplish.

A clue for getting ahead: Get started.

Never believe that you have nothing to give. It is possible for you to give what EVERYONE needs: kindness. 

People who have to control everything in life to the point that it controls them only MIGHT be more productive, but they will CERTAINLY be less likeable. 

Happiness should be high on the list of life goals, with occupation a financial means toward that end, and yet too many on personal crusades mistake incorporation into their project with what another might consider "only a job." 

When the sun no longer shines on the spot you are in, it's time to move out of the gloom.

The height of arrogance is the belief that the power you have over your own life extends to that of others.

Silence sometimes means agreement, sometimes not. Sometimes it is the realization of wasted effort, believing that something is not worth the fight.

Never assume to know the wishes of a reticent individual.

Those who continue to give the most effort are those who are appreciated.

I thought about running this morning even though I know full well it requires rhythm and focus and the dogged ability to shut out distraction, not my strengths. There is melody in the thump and slap of sneakers when heard outside the sounds of the world...and that you subtract-- the cars, the trucks, maybe motorcycles (though in my case, I will always turn my head to watch the rebels ride), until there is nothing but the music of your feet on pavement. I'll think about running again later, though at my stage of life many have even lost the ability to walk. All I ask is that if you see me running (pretty doubtful), please don't laugh. And please cheer on all those who make such a good show of it.

Although I am not typically insane, I am frequently out of my mind—in a much roomier place beyond analysis and expectation— where there is only gratitude and appreciation.

Inner peace is the blossom of clear conscience.

I am far less a person who seeks pleasure than I am an individual who pursues wonder.

Change the world by not giving up your individuality.

My tirade of the day is this: (In summary --- Your goal + your efforts = your reality.) 1. A person who never gives up can never be beat. 2. Push disinclination aside and inspiration will come. 3. My heroes are those people who do common things uncommonly well. 4. Everything you do is going to feel like work if you would rather be doing something else. 5. Being on the right track is not enough. You have to keep moving. 6. All things I ever tried to do fell into place when I stopped wishing the task was easier and started wishing I was better at it. 7. Like everyone else, I have days that I don't do a heck of a lot. The worst part about that is not knowing when I'm done. Have a great day one and all !

You can learn quite a bit from a dog, like -- Always give 100%. Don't hide your feelings. And if you can't have something you want, howl a little bit and then move on.

Some days you just feel fat, but not so much from bulge of body parts as from psyche burden.

Disappointment is not without value. It can be a great motivator.

Love can do great things, but it doesn't do much for a sinus infection.

If you pass money from one hand to another hand and to another until it's gone, you have something in common with government.

Have you ever agreed with someone and found out later that you were both terribly wrong?

I would rather that the results of my effort be worthwhile than easy.

Start with valor, finish with heart.

I was browbeat, so I hated. I was valued, so I loved.

My father thought he taught me everything I needed to know about boys. It was an angry education with too much spin on it, warnings. His anger was a puzzle, the way he held the possibility of adolescent love in such contempt. My introverted nature always backed me out of that. He didn't seem to care as long as he had his say. If there was love between my parents, it was atmospherically imparted, no direct speech of it allowed. She did a lot of sewing. He drank a lot of pissed-off liquids and watched her as if he was flipping switches as she guided the fabric under the Singer's feed-dog. Her eyes cold, cold in her clothes, she pushed toward the small light of the machine while her own light would not turn on. I never understood it then, and not until I made my own (no blame intended) wrong choices. Many beautiful people turn out to be not the best choice for each other.

In today's society, lovemaking is too often handled like a power tool--- mechanics and bargaining position, a lot of movement and noise, but little heart.


When selecting a friend, I would rather choose a comfortable ugly person than someone who is trying to be pretty or cool.


My philosophy is like a soft pillow that cradles troubled thinking, but it doesn't make me delusional. I will sometimes still be uncomfortable. I will still die. I will still never know much of anything for sure.


If you paint or if you write, know that it is better to paint a bad picture or write a bad poem than no picture, no poem. Often it's the painting, the writing itself that rescues, that heals you.


A beautiful face or body might get people close to you, but it is who you are that will get them to stay.


If I'm in a good mood, there is no such thing as bad weather. If I'm in a bad mood, even a warm breeze sucks.


As human beings, we all disappoint each other. We are indeed lucky when we live with someone who doesn't punish us for it.


After staying up late and feeling generous toward nature, after watching an old gray opossum hang in the milky moonlight as it scattered the rags of night, I checked this morning to see if it had eaten the wet cat food, the wiener, the kibble I left it. I found my offering intact, and the opossum nearby, maybe with some dream of roaches or carcass contents, scratching in the stink for something seasoned by frozen leaves. But that's OK. Isn't taste and desire an individual thing to be allowed and respected where it does no harm?


I treat my mind like any other child. I give it plenty of fresh air. I feed it sensibly. I love and encourage it, and I wouldn't dream of telling it to shut up.


People are not so different from dogs in some respect. They need someone to keep an eye on them, and they need to be let outside sometimes or they will leave a mess in the house.


Nature has all the answers and takes care of all things. There is peace and relaxation in that. If you don't feel it, perhaps you are not really paying attention.


Today is a day for gratitude. If I could add any material thing to my personal environment, I would add nothing, change nothing.


I never rush anywhere to get into the "action." What I'm doing is sufficient. Maybe not too exciting, but not something ahead and caught up in the jangle of party lights and voices. Just a simple life with uncomplicated movements, not something coming...rather something real and here, a gentle wave and simple flourish that makes me smile so big there is little room for anything else.


COMMON GOAL: Don't most of us want to be worthwhile, contributing individuals -- to pull something from the air, to prop it up and make it solid so someone can see it, can hear it, can touch it, and be in some way moved by it-- if for only a moment before it is swept downstream?


There was a time I was bitter and hateful, but not now, not anymore. I guess I missed the boat for a portion of my life, but I learned to go and swim out after it. I can no longer avoid intimacy. Everything I do takes me closer to something in this world that I want to be intimate with, and if I only have a tiny space in which to dance (the hell with making a fool of myself), I dance.


I hope the world remembers me in a small, unselfish way, that it holds the ash of me like a shiny marble or with other seeds in the deep pocket of its green skirt. I hope it will float my troubled thoughts away like moths, that I may lay as quiet as a stone while the breathing community-- birds, insects, animals -- including man, continues with its grappling, and then, in the exact time of kind intent, rubs the magic on me that makes me vanish into a better place.


As usual, I am up early and in my private world of thought, appreciating darkness yet looking forward to the light, for the sun to come relaxed and easy overhead, to bleach the rumpled sea of clouds and touch the ground lovingly from imperial distance. Another gift. Another day. Deep gratitude! 


There's a cat on my lap. It looks up at me to absorb what it can in meaning from our encounter. Patient for only a moment, it seems to wonder what I'm thinking as it reaches for my toast. I give it a snippet first, and then another and smile with hopeful confidence it will give me a favorable rating and allow me at least the crust.... Fate, or perhaps only a storm brought us to this common space to exchange pleasantries, each being as kind to the other as the moment's mood allows, each trying to do right by the other before we fade back into our respective anonymities.. "Oh, here, have it all! There's more bread in the bag."


Here I go again, tripping on the intoxicant of a new day and trying to transform my "stubby crayon" thoughts into some kind of fancy calligraphy....with no further motive than to greet you with a smile. 


It's been raining all day, the air full of shadows, maybe ghosts. For some reason as I stick my fork into a can of tuna, I think about the first fish I ever caught. It wouldn't lie flat on the ground but flipped and flailed as it sucked at the burning torture of the air, slower and slower until it died in a pouring off of rainbows. We took it home and my dad opened its body and scraped out some ugly stuff. He separated the meat which we ate from the bone which we threw away. It tasted good just as this tuna is good, but as I look out at a world under the soft touch of water in the melancholy part of the day, I think it's kind of a pity that something usually has to die so something else can live.



Do a good deed. Think a good thought. Turn from aggression. At the end of day, lay your head down, without preamble, sleep.


Rise above emotionless familiarity to live an interesting life.


Truth: the greatest labyrinth, the bare bones of any situation.


Sometimes happiness depends on survival of great sadness.


Often the torment of memories, the trap of emotions nurtures the crazy belief of being a poet.


The moon is a ball of lifelessness used by lovers to stimulate adventure awakened by puberty. And still-- I gaze.


The world wears evening like a cape, beautiful and thin, and the melt of reality begins.


A classic defense: Using words at the expense of good sense.


Mlsconception: The cash register language of success.


True comfort : Feeling safe in each other 's company.


Be joyful, but first be worthy of joy.


All that you do for yourself dies with you. That done for the world lingers.

I accept life patterns and bear inevitable demise no animosity, but  hope to carry benevolence always, and press it, along with ardent curiosity, against the outer rim.

Don't let small setbacks diminish belief in yourself. Just because you get a fortune cookie with nothing in it doesn't mean you have no future.

Honesty makes all conversation worthwhile.

 The sun comes up on anything. It's up to each of us to make our own day worthwhile.

Blogging is a bit like trimming my toenails. No big difference is made, but somehow I feel a little more comfortable.

Long ago, even then a worrier, perhaps from knowing the world improves itself to greater danger (What once were gentle paths are now high-speed highways), I ease the door to peek into the unpunctuated dark of my small daughter's room.  I squint and wait for resolution.  And then it comes -- the slope of her back.  She is turned away from me.  Only the wall can see her face, but I can hear her breathing.  I can smell the stray dog we "just had to let inside."  I close the door slowly, quietly, leave like a nurse.  I'll be back to check again in a couple hours......  If motherhood could be judged by love alone, I will always be a perfect mother.

Accept that your first kiss will be awkward, excellence is an impossibility worth striving for, and death your best lesson in humility.

Coins encrusted in a water fountain record wishes relying on a single cast. There is poetry in the action, but more result can be achieved by redirecting a dream into a harder-working hand.

A GOOD THING TAKEN TOO FAR? This "political correctness" is madness! I am confused. If I wake up off-balance, does that make me listfully-challenged? Would being too happy or not happy enough be blissfully-challenged? And how would it work with urination? Too frequent, or inability -- which might be considered pis---   Hold on, let 's leave that one right there!

Only the Country buoyed through troubled water on the strong backs of those who love it can maintain its greatness.

Strength is useless without empathy, education powerless without drive.

I trust sincerity over eloquence, dedication above popularity, an honest mistake far beyond calculated deception.

Negativity is a mass murderer. Look to the bright side. If a sprout of hope cannot be found, plant a seed.

In the home, no strength is greater than honor, no beauty more excellent than that of devotion.

No good can come from carrying a bad report, from spreading gossip. I ask no man to entertain me with the elements or details of his personal life. I let the plumber plumb, the actor act, expect only that for which I paid.


Simple Irony:

I walk through a crowd of children, and they laugh.
I remember being a child and laughing when an older person passed.
Odd though, for the life of me, I don't know what was amusing then,
Or what makes me funny now.


I try to be a tidy person.  Shoes beneath my bed, neatly pointed outward. Clothes hung in sets for a week of wearing.  Everything is routine, has shape, clarity, definition, religious order, except of course, for important things like world hunger and world peace, about which I join the disorderly majority-- confused, with little clue.

Put no evil substance in your body. If you had a lucky childhood, as I did, the only high you will ever need is youth, and then your memory of it-- that grand time when you were swift, sure-footed, confident, infallible and so totally beyond destruction.

Since no mentality has definite lines, definitive form, nor strict portrayal, we might each, at some point, be the monster in the dark, recognizing it just enough to make us sleep with our own lights on.

What inner void addicts us to illusion, sutures us to methods of escape, invites us to bring our toy cars to play in a quicksand box? By what deceptive smile are we lured from our prison of discontent to events where play is much too rough? When did it happen that the joy of sunrise, loved ones, flowers, and sandy beaches ceased to be enough?



The mountain is an upward conclusion, imagination steeled by perserverance, understanding cast from solitude.  Many climb to know the wisdom of the face of stone, to touch jaws that jut to ledges, and to there suffer assault on reason being stormed to its maturity.  Man loses his frivols on the mountain, his coins, his toys, and feels his soul plucked to bald beauty worthy of ascension for audience with God.

Long ago in school, I sewed a pleated skirt, magenta. The waistband was flawless, the zipper perfect. (Oh, all right, my mother may have helped me with that.)  The Home-Ec teacher gave me an A, which was even then peculiar.    
If I had gained 300 pounds, the skirt would still have been far too big for me --- proof positive that what is good is not always fitting.


Because a newborn does not know the struggles of another, being born is basic, simple, and we start to gather what we need, and what we don't need until, if we are lucky, we reach old age and then begin to shed what we never needed, and what we did, until death too is fundamental. The wise make space between entry and exit count.


Probably half of what we say is meaningless, so at a time when there is just one right thing to say that could bring comfort or resolution, why do we so often stay silent?

 I am a tool, as we all are, hoping to find, and to be found for useful purpose.

My father was a fist, my mother an open palm. I learned from each, if no more than this -- not to be a pointed finger.


Childhood is absolute, being an adult cluttered,  Let me, a moment, be a child again, with silly grin - on the seasaw, up and down, far out on the swing.....

If given a choice between vices-- if to boast, say about celebrity contact, or to indulge a taste for chocolate, I choose the one that does not violate another's right of privacy, and spend the afternoon eating bon-bons...

Do not linger on supposition.  Apply the Golden Rule to every situation in your life. Instantly, the correct answer will be known......


You may have millions of dollars, whereas I may make due with a handful of dimes.   Steak might hang over your plate while I stab at a small piece of cheese at plate's center.  Perchance, you sip champagne. Maybe I chug-a-lug beer, but if we both went blind, lost hearing and reason, is there any true measure of which of us would be poorer?


Our forefathers are gone.The pickpocket of death has taken them all into the night. They left behind the papers and books, the wisdom-- a tangible trust and ethereal guideline as impetus for us to continue the work, dedication, and hope that this great nation continues to reign.


I am an American.  Conservative by nature. Empathic by will. Grateful through realization. I have no Country- damaging affiliations, no special agenda.  I am just an ordinary person, soul-deep, and full-hearted with appreciation for all who have and do struggle to keep the breath in this land.


Monetary Value-- (contains some  exaggeration or understatement) I live in America, outright own a 750 sq.ft. house, a 12-year old truck, maybe 15 changes of clothes, 3 pairs of shoes, 1 party dress and a great big can full of pennies. Compare that to the world. Don't think for a minute I don't know how lucky I am.


Aspiration is the dream of a single grain of sand dropped into a full bucket, stirred through, against all odds, still hoping to be noticed. But dreamers are not noted for their wisdom.  It is through great passion they prevail.


In art, reason may be the money man between incitement and flamboyance, but anyone who minimizes creativity specifically to fill his wallet steals from himself. Paint, sculpt, write, whatever, first for your own pleasure. The world will follow, or it won't.

The Power of Positive Thinking:  It's Only a Mountain.  Move it.








Words.  I love words, the "Make my day" words, words that grip, have fingernails in them.


Pleasure is dulled by satiation. Give me beans three times a week, and a small piece of steak on Sunday.


Never toy with someone's heart until you make it abundantly clear you are only playing.


Don't climb on a wagon if you can't tolerate a bumpy ride.


Man is not tall in stature if short on compassion.


Small effort recognized encourages a greater one.


Beauty without motivation is just another junkyard Cadillac without an engine.


Before you raise a fist, extend fingers in a pause for evaluation. You can still slap them if you're wrong.


It is foolish to brag about staying with someone through their darkness when you are the one who put them there.

My father held up the sky and set me in it, but it was my mother who caught me each time I fell.


If something should take my beautiful, talented daughter from this world, I would implode and follow.



Take heart if your lifelong dream still eludes you. If breath remains, it's not over yet.