Herein lies the recording of a life. A memorial to moments, sprinkled across eternity. Broadcast from a twinkle in god's eye. These symbols will never capture the beauty. Nor will they encapsulate the pain. But they will be written just the same. You may find yourself here, perhaps between the lines. I hear we are all the same, when traced across time.


October 21st, 2014 | Poem

painting is my favorite art form
incompetence is freedom
hope is distraction
dreams suffocate
skill is pride
is stock broker
is broken now
now is paint
nothing else (Read More)


September 29th, 2014 | Narrative

A couple weeks ago I wished for an android tablet.  Yesterday a client handed me one and said, if you can fix it it's yours.  Today I have a fully functional android tablet.  

This is not a… (Read More)