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I’m In Love With Inspector 4
I opened the package several days ago. After giving the contents a quick once-over, I tossed them on the bed of our spare room. The bed held a pile of clothes…it was quite out of control. I glanced at the closet, looking for a coat hanger worthy of my new purchase. I spotted nothing but…
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Look Now, Beauty Can Die in a Moment
And this same flower that smiles today, To-morrow will be dying. –Robert Herrick The end of beauty is strange. The time elapsed can take decades. You look at your wife…you don’t see a sudden change when she turns around to look at you…you don’t even notice the change because it’s slow…too slow for the human…
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How Soon They Forget
There I sit, in the corner of the yard, like a ’51 Chevy that had a broken axle and no one had the $65.00 to repair it. I’ve been dusted off, washed and parked out to dry. The thousands of smashed bug bodies on my forward surface are gone. That’s ok, I don’t like bug…
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Epitaphs: Part V–A Desert Grave
As a rule, this post is about unusual and interesting words, the last words, the final words that are carved onto a headstone. In this case, there are no words. Perhaps there is a name and a date, but the face of the stone was difficult to see. I was held back by a fence.…
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Travels 27.2: We Save the Worst Until the Last
Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I fully intended for Travels 26 to be the Grand Finale, but in the confusion, exhaustion and labor of getting back into our house on Friday night, I had forgotten to add the Vital Statistics that I had spent so much time compiling. When I realized this gross…
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Travels 27.1: Captains Log
There will be a posting after this one goes out. When? I can’t say. But, the next blog Travels 27.2 will be a concise explanation for why 27.1 is necessary. It will reveal in bone-chilling, spine-tingling and shocking details, the series of wrong moves made by me, the so-called Captain, as we arrived at our…
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Travels 27: Falling In Love Again [The Final Installment]
The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense. Take what you have gathered from coincidence. The empty-handed painter from your streets, Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets. The sky, too, is folding under you And it’s all over now, Baby Blue. –Bob Dylan “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” Carpe R-Pod.…
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Travels 26: A Grave Situation and a Cold Grey Sky From Lake Erie
I know, intuitively, that my readers are gathered on street corners, in cafe nooks, penthouses, cabanas, taco trailers, art theater lobbies, bowling alleys, massage parlors and sleazy bars all across America saying: “The guy must have run out of ideas by now. Surely, his well of experiences has run dry. What else can the old…
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Travels 25: We Park the R-Pod Next to a Haunted House and Play a Part in Grassroots Democracy
In the last thirty hours or so, we have made zero forward progress on our trip home. We’re taking a breather, a last stretch before the last stretch, if you get my drift. A gulp of air in preparation for the final sprint to Rainbow Lake, if you take my meaning. We’re staying at our…
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Travels 24: Theological Debate Rages in Men’s Room Stall
I’ve always been interested in what guys write on bathroom walls. There’s a particular sub-culture of public rest room users who feel the need to express themselves with markers, pens or the sharp edge of a jack-knife. Remember, my interest began in days when guys didn’t have Twitter or Facebook to argue their many points…
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