No Awards. No Accolades with which to wow. Time is my bona fides. Stay on the planet long enough you will see some things. You will know some things. Create, craft, and build a life. Observe, learn, and practice. These I have done. All in training for this, my third act. As I am typing, Bob Dylan is singing, Knocking On Heaven’s Door.

Apropos.

The fantasy phase of life is well behind me. The journey laid out ahead leads to the raw and unspoiled rubber hitting the road, bone marrow sucking, light bending black hole of mortality’s doorstep. No time to flirt. No time to hesitate. No time for bitter tastes. No time for anger.

Time only to say it like it is. Full expression. Laughter. Exuberance. Sensorium pounding. Reality, perception, and truth, at last, merging.

The themes I write about are masculinity, outliers, and the unseen and unnamed forces that shape our world.

Masculine, feminine, these are overly simplistic labels and explanations for our beautifully complex beings. The dualism resulting denies us the opportunity to live fully within ourselves.

Our tribal, communal, and social demands serve to herd one another into a narrow existence. The outliers are scorned. Until, that is, they illuminate and enrich. The truth is we are each unique. We are all outliers. It’s the gift most of us never unwrap.

Much of my adult life was spent in politics and government. For me, The Matrix and Parks and Rec are documentaries. Tough reality for my idealistic mind to accept. However, admitting a problem is the first step to recovery.

Join me. Like any good street drug pusher, the first one is free. Chapter One is always “on the house”. You’ll be hooked and soon you will find yourself searching the couch for quarters. Call me, however, if you find yourself at the pawnshop with grandma’s jewelry. We can work something out.