Ease into the day. Be happy for the simple act of waking, walking downstairs, and making coffee. Today is appreciated a little more because yesterday was harder. Or so it seems when the new morning is dark and damp, fresh with quiet and stars. Days are inaccurately rated in hindsight because you aren’t the same … More Thanksgiving Morning, 2022
There’s only so much you can do. People aren’t going to like you. They aren’t going to understand you. They will question what you’re doing, what you’re thinking about, what you have done, and what you haven’t done. When they can’t find anything else about you that makes them unhappy, they will make something up. … More to the kids, from Dad
It’s hard to open a mind that doesn’t want to be open. Same thing goes for hearts and souls. A lot of good people move through life unfulfilled because they’re unwilling to change their narrative. They’ve established a persona, a way people expect them to be, so they fear that being anything else will chip … More get out and stay out
Taste of fall this morning. Cool, gusty wind coming off Grand Lake. Lots of waves. The temperature will probably stay below 70. Not cold, but not warm enough for swimming or dragging people around the water on a tube. So, our activities will be land-based. Cornhole, ladder ball, sitting and standing around, talking. All of … More the drinking brain after 1 year and 10 months of sobriety
Another bag of trash to the can, then to the side of the road. Men with manners—they wave, nod, and even smile sometimes in passing—will be here soon to take it away and then lay the empty container on its side in the dewy grass. It’s summer, so hanging off the back of a garbage … More garbage day
A morning alone at the cottage. No breakfast. Only coffee and water and the buzzing of the 40-year-old refrigerator fueling me as I head straightaway into two years of sobriety, fourteen years of marriage, and another autumn that leads to months of cold, stories unfinished, travels not taken, amends not made. The water will run. … More 9:30 am, Saturday Morning
You’re not going to get all the beautiful mornings. Not to the extent that you desire. This one—the best one yet, July 3rd, 2022—is gorgeous. Smooth lake. Warm sunrise. Cool air. Dewy grass shimmering in the light. Time to kayak, paddleboard, fish. A slow morning cruise around the shoreline and islands. But no, not today. … More morning at the lake
I don’t know where it all goes. They were here yesterday, soft and playful. Running around the house all day. Needing me. Not for the important stuff. Mom is always there for that. But for games and feats of strength. To reach things up high. Carry them upstairs to bed. Tell them stories. Just be … More The Dad Job
Many of us don’t use our time wisely. We’re unable to recognize opportunities. We don’t capitalize on them when we do. And so, we sit, get weak and weary and bitter, and we fit ourselves into routines we’ll never break from. … More into another day
Down there, you may think you’re in control, that you have friends, but you’re only widening the expanse of the darkness. Making it more and more difficult to find the light. Making yourself more alone. And when you do pop up to make the necessary appearance, the darkness comes with you. I know firsthand. … More on the surface
On the porch, I pour hot water over the blood. Some seeps through the cracks. Some—bright red globules—float away over the edge. The rest, the kind found by crime scene investigators, bonds to whatever invisible blood bonds to, and waits. … More a glimpse of morning
A few days ago, I set up the basketball hoop in the driveway. My kids and I played. Around the world. Horse and pig. It’s been all shitty weather since. Not an issue, but tiresome. This is living in Michigan. Cold, warm, sun, snow, rain, hail, a breeze, a blustery wind storm—all of it can … More rambling on a snow day – bus moments
For me. For you. The blue overlays the white, but we fight for clarity as we march toward destiny—an everchanging, growing evolution of experience. We won’t settle, except for slow times when recharging is necessary. An hour on the couch to zone out or laugh, be amazed, or afraid. Two chapters in a chair to … More simple depth
They want to be heard and recognized. And they’re scared too. Maybe not all the time, but this moving from day to day isn’t always easy. Shit, indeed, does happen. And it’s important to remember others are at it as well. Doing whatever it takes to figure it out, get through, and be as prepared as possible for whatever, whenever it comes. … More bird moments
All we need we’ll take with us when we go. When we leave this place. Move on to the next. So, it’s okay to enjoy the plastic and metal, the concrete and virtual. Go ahead, experience the highs and lows. Run, walk. Freefall. Taste the salt of sweat and tears—our ocean. Remember the puppies, the … More they’re growing up
Most of us fit into the system. Run along as best as we can within the structure. Marking days off the calendar. Checking off to-do lists and bucket lists and shopping lists. Identifying each other by our numbers, our belongings, the rungs we have or have not reached on the ladder to success. Some strange place or feeling that we’re supposed to have if we do this, that, and the other things. … More patterns to possibilities
Feed your brain and body better ingredients and better experiences. Don’t lose sight of stars. The horizon. The patience and magic that rolls a cloud into a whale, a penguin, a buffalo. Pick up a book. Dedicate yourself to one page a day. Remove yourself from the narrative you’ve created and discover another. Remember, … More come down
Once you start taking a hard look at yourself, measuring your decisions, weighing consequences, it’s easy to not drink. It’s easy to turn the other cheek. It’s easy to believe in others, and most of all, it’s easy to believe in you. And once you get on that path of believing in yourself, you pick up steam day by day, and become, in a way, unstoppable. … More one year later — looking up
Dads do a lot of dirty work. I know I do. It’s my role. I do dirty deeds so others don’t have to. Not all Dads are like this, but also, I am certainly not a shining example of what a Dad should be. I try, though, and my aim is to get better as … More Dad’s Dirty Deeds
I’ve spent so much time over the years reigning myself in that my writing has been too measured. Maybe it’s not about the iceberg theory—making meaning by what’s left out. Maybe it’s good to simply say it straight out. Do what the energy wants. Rip off the band-aid. Let it bleed. Let it breathe. Just let it be. And maybe this change is about more than writing. Maybe it’s about my life.
… More October 21, 2021
Sobriety’s interesting. I remember it. And I feel good being back to it. … More carry on
There’s danger in getting too far ahead. In thought. In action. In words. Even if you know something deep in your core, sometimes it’s best to wait to make mention of it. Time may not exist, but it’s in control. Desire for the physical is fading. There’s an appeal from within for a slower pace. … More i like it
The moon’s still out. High above Eddie’s place across the street. I saw it while putting cat shit in the garbage can. This morning, I don’t feel I’m missing out on—or missing—anything. Life is fine. There’s a comfortable lull of contentedness wrapping up all around me this morning. I don’t feel guilty about it, either. … More next
Some mornings I want to wake slowly. Watch myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth and give myself the benefit of the doubt. Some forgiveness. Overall, we’ve done well. We’re not finished by any means. There’s still so much more living to do. But there are days—like this Summer Sunday morning, feeling closer … More our big trip
Dreamt I drank. Felt guilty as hell. There was no desire to drink. Just did it. I was driving my son’s car. 2009 Toyota Corolla LE. Going to get it tuned up for him at a friend’s garage. Strange. Surreal. Exciting and worrisome, as dreams often are. I felt good, buzzed up, but I knew … More phantom hangover
I wrote A Prayer in 2004. I was a different person, but I wasn’t. There’s immaturity in that writing. That’s natural. As artists, we grow—if we dedicate time to the craft. What was best though. was seeing that I’d grown as a person. I don’t even recognize some of the stories. I get the meaning. … More a prayer
Mayflies dot damp sidewalks as we move along with the dogs. Our morning exercise between bouts of rain. The routes we take are the same. There are only so many streets in this town. Best we can do is switch up our lefts and rights to see the world from different angles at different times. … More the obvious
Bird, apple, orange. I’m happy to be torn. Into so many pieces. They see me. Different directions. The refraction. Light on my edges. The kids’ drip, drip, dripping faucet. The bathroom sink. My little boy is 15. He has a razor and shaves. My little girl is 11. She wears eye shadow sometimes. They are … More bird, apple, orange
You know how you wake up with a song in your head and it sticks there while? What if you put on the headphones and played that song? And what if you did it every time you woke with a song in your brain? Would it change the course of your day? I think the … More distillation
Drinking stops, but thinking does not. As you learn to live all over again—taking baby steps—the world around you continues.
Thirty years of steady alcohol intake trains the body and brain. You don’t notice the aches. Pain. When you’re frustrated, you drink. If you’re tired, you drink. Happy, you drink. Sad, you drink. Drinking goes with everything.
“I’d rather have a bottle in front of me, than a frontal lobotomy.”
… More seven months
Get in and ride. Take the fork. Bend the spoon. Let the roads expand perception and create our path. Ignore the compass. Follow the shapeshifting clouds. Climb the gravelly hill. Roll and brake down the sandy slope. Gas it through the water hole. Let’s open the moonroof and the windows. Let the lake, earth and … More backroads
May 30th, 2021 8:35 am Caring less about what others think, but still caring about their thoughts. Opinions, unless expressed in an interesting way, are useless. Just words. Humans have learned to express themselves more throughout evolution. Tapping into that inner monologue. Letting it rip. From cave walls and stone tablets to papyrus. Newspapers. The … More sharing space
Rain. The puddles. A grackle at the feeder. These are important today. It isn’t the buzz of the headlines. News twisted to push agendas. Keep them rich. Keep them poor. Sick, sick, sick. Buy, buy, buy. It’s the yellow-eyed black bird holding its long tail in a “V” as it scatters seed onto the porch. … More less
May 15th, 2021 6:50 am Awfully tired. But that’s par for the course. Not worthy of mentioning. But I do it anyway because it’s on my mind. The tired feeling has hold of me. I rely now, on coffee. Once I drink the morning sauce and it moves into my bloodstream, I’ll feel awake. Thoughts … More bed head
Bird eggs. Some still looking intact. On sidewalks and lawns. Some broken in half, the middle oozing out. Others, just shell. We see them when we walk these days. It’s a wild time for nature. The foraging. Nesting. Sunlight, darkness, extreme changes of weather. Survival. Last night, we purchased a fifty-pound bag of black, oiled, … More guarding the nest
Get in on whatever you can. Give it some gas. Do what makes you feel good. Recently, I stepped back from teaching college. That, coupled with sobriety, has helped me reach levels of productivity and relaxation that I haven’t experienced in many years. I have improved my office space in the basement. Having a comfortable … More ripe for the taking
January 4, 2021 7:10 am Unrest. That’s what it is. Caged up. Energy to burn, satisfaction wanted, but choosing tasks is difficult. But why choose to do anything? There’s enough in my everyday to keep me busy. With existence dwindling, my focus is on happiness. I need to publish a book. Poetry, short stories, a … More unrest
Fat and sugar, salt and caffeine lift me when they hit the bloodstream. So, I make Sunday breakfast for family. Eat sausage while it cooks. Sip fresh ground blonde roast. Listen to Holiday Classics and my son, as he tells my wife about his late-night spent eating burgers, broccoli, chili, rice, and chips. watching college … More 8:53 am
Fewer excuses. Less procrastination. Better judgement. That’s what I’ve been experiencing over the last month and three days not drinking alcohol. Granted, I drank half a gallon of vodka and up to half a box of wine a week. Cutting that in half likely would have helped. But, it was time to stop. I was … More a month and three days
The dogs so happy to be out in the fresh day. Scents everywhere. Running. Pissing. Pooping. Around the yard, through the leaves, sniffing around the small wood pile, sure that something’s there. And it likely is. Or was. Nestled into a crevice. Surrounded by dried grass, leaves, bits of paper, and strands of string. A … More a month and two days
Up early these days. With the dog, the cats. The stars up in black sky. This morning, I was ready for snow. Crept downstairs so as not to wake my warm, sleeping family, then stopped at our front door. The house across the street. A Christmas tree in the top right window year-round. Our American … More awake again
She sleeps so soundly, but I don’t because I don’t know how. There’s too much pounding in my brain, ringing in my ears. And there’s ache in my hands, wrists, hips, and feet. I can’t stop thinking about how night wraps up all around me, us, and how eventually it wins. Takes everything. Makes it … More she sleeps
(Recently, I asked my students to experiment with freewriting…just letting words roll out from wherever they come. So, I thought I would do the same.) I don’t feel like being metaphorical or creative or moving this morning. I want to get on with the day, but it’s already here. Somehow, I get into it without … More freewriting blasphemy
In two inches of shitty water. Plunging the drain in the basement. Over and over again. Wads of hair. Toilet paper. Band-aids. Pieces of foil. Rubber bands. Bits of unidentifiable things built up over years, even long before we got here. It splashes me. It stinks. But it’s nearly midnight and I’m not losing this … More life doesn’t wait for backed up sewer lines
Early Sunday morning. A car stops on State Street because a flock of geese crosses the road. They are doing what they’ve been doing for millions of years. Moving from Point A to Point B. They’ve experienced disease, drought, famine, and legitimate predators—not the weekend gun-jockeys that pop them off in parks during three-day hunts … More crossing the road
This kid thing isn’t easy. That’s why it’s rewarding. They push and stretch and shape you in ways you could never imagine. It’s all good though. As long as you can keep your guts out of it as necessary, and make logical decisions based on reason, they turn out okay. None of them are perfect. … More raising kids–it’s a crapshoot
The sky threatened for hours. Light, then dark. Light, then dark. Light, then an expanse of dull gray, puffed up and floating above the big lake and our little town. The rain, mostly unpredictable sprinkles, came and went. Came and went. But we welcomed the day, and we were happy. This was yesterday. Our anniversary. … More twelve years into it
(from the opening of Black) We are halfway between the equator and the North Pole. At least that’s what the sign says alongside the road. It is big and green with white block lettering and it is mounted to two eight by eights that are cemented into the ground. Anyone traveling US 23, the single … More The 45th Parallel
Up to the city siren and out of bed quickly to survey the situation. As if there’s anything I could do to save us. The fierce wind drives waves of rain. Trees and wires sway. Lawn chairs tumble across the yard. Bird feeders swing wildly on their hooks. A garbage can rolls down the street. … More sunday morning storm
A twelve-year-old girl keeps a sunfish in a bucket for days. One she caught while camping. She feeds it bits of leftover burger. Dried worms from the sidewalk. Poor, stupid moths that bang against her bedroom window. And ants. The sunfish floats. Surrounded by white walls. Under a narrow shaft of light. The big sky … More no hands
This is a good sleeping house. I say this because I’ve been sleeping better. My family has been sleeping better. The pets seem to have adjusted nicely too. I enjoy walking around the house. It’s not that big, but there’s a life path—a circle—that connects the study, the kitchen, living room, and dining room. There … More our new home
The sun brings on the day. Not headlines or pocketbooks. Definitely not desire. Fear plays no part in the cosmos. Those stars do what they do no matter what. Wish upon them all you want. The universe doesn’t care much about your Facebook posts. Your Twitter feed. What you’re wearing. Who you’re dreaming about. What you want to be whenever you stop being what everyone else expects you to be. … More waking slow
The Crooked Steeple 