A Form of Writing

5/19/2007 Civil War Reenactment Set, Slideshow (292 Pictures)

Blogging may be a new form of writing. I read novels, short stories, magazine articles, poetry, haiku. Where do blog entries fit in? I read them everyday. We can’t really call blogging a journal, it’s more of a short verse.

We’re not asking questions of ourselves as we would in a journal. We’re asking everyone in the world questions. We’re trying to convince or cajole, humor or insult. Just as the forms of writing vary, so does the quality. Here’s what I think blogging is…


Blogging isn’t about Me telling you what to think.

Blogging isn’t about You telling me what to think.

Blogging is about ME telling YOU what I THINK!

Bgoglnig wtih a sepllckceehr swols dwon waht I tnihk

Blogging like grammar with yoda ignorant doesn’t think.


Blogging dirty pictures? What would your mother think?

Blogging about the government? What would your father think?

Gniggolb sdrawkcab ekil icniV aD, tahw od uoy kniht?

Blogging all day makes jack a dull boy, oo0, am I on the brink?

A Gophers Prediction

I like Punxsutawney Phil and General Beauregard. They’re both varmints with challenging names and super powers. They can predict the future, after all. I had no idea that there’s a whole pantheon of Groundhog superheros out there, though. There’s even a Prognosticating Llama.

Anyway, the consensus in the varmint Justice League is that Spring will come early this year. Spring comes the same time every year around here… 6 weeks too late. Stay warm 🙂

A Fistful of Photos

I’ve been thinking about prices lately. I talked to a winemaker on Cayuga Lake once who told me that the price of wine is always wrong. He said that most bottles of wines are really worth about $6. He meant the wine you buy at the market. There are other vintages that will always be worth more. In New York State, 1991 was one of those years. A mild winter led into a rainy spring, which slid into a dry summer, which slipped into a perfect fall. The perfect fall is kind of rare up here. Usually, we’re cruising along at summer’s pace, then two or three weeks later, we’re shoveling the driveway. 1991 was a very good year for New York State wines. Even a novice like me could tell the difference. He probably still has a few bottles of the 91 somewhere in the winery. It has value, not only because it’s good wine, but because it represents a comfortable year in New York. I graduated from college in 1991. All and all, it was a good year. The value of the wine is set by my desire to relive the essence of that year.

Wine distills the essence of a place in a unique way. For the longest time, the type of wine was restricted to certain areas. Champagne, Bordeaux, and Chardonnay all came from certain counties. Drinking those wines was a way of experiencing that region, even if you were on the other side of the world. Now, they make replicas of those wines, since the grapes are true, but the land is different. The only native grape in New York State is the Cayuga, I think. It’s a variety of grape vine that was developed by Cornell University to grow in New York State. A very American way of making wine, no? Cayuga and Dry Riesling are my favorite varieties from the Finger Lakes wineries.

Dreaming of You

Here’s a little free typing experiment…

What if everything we see and experience is nothing but a dream? Imagine it for a moment. We live in a bland world that siphons the creativity and energy from us. The walls close in on us as we stare at them in despair, so we rush to bed each night, hoping for relief from our monotonous lives.

A vibrant life greets us in the dream world were strife and conflict, beauty and serenity flow into our hungry minds. I see you when we are awake, but I imagine that I can almost see through your translucent skin to the dull core of your heart. At night, we swirl together, then apart, in a dance of grace that will only end with waking. We cling together, bathed in a light that the day can only steal away with the beat of that external drum. When we sleep, we are heroes of legend, questing for truth in a way that the waking world can only imitate with a pale shadow.

When I sleep, I pity the shallow fool who created me through the dream. He has no light within him, no love for this world that boxes him in. In my dream, he is beautiful, because I am beautiful. You are there with me, too. When I look in your face, there is a friendship there that we’ll never know when we are awake. You frowned at me this morning, but tonight you’ll smile. Perhaps I’ll smile back.

I had a nightmare once where I screamed, but no sound came out. I walked towards the house without any will to stop my trembling feet from moving forward. I stood at the top of the steps, and stared down an impossibly long flight of stairs. I stepped forward and fell. Instead of striking the floor, I passed through it and into a field of stars. I had the sense of falling, but no references to show me how fast I was moving. I closed my mouth, but the screaming still railed silently against my skull. I awoke, grateful to have escaped from my terror. The day held no respite for me, though, and I still slept the next night, hoping for a better dream.


Yup, life was tough in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. Bikinis (well, bikini bottoms, at least) 😉 and Coco Locos can really take it out of a lonely traveler. Here I am putting my feet up for a well deserved rest.

Here is a link to the Beach set of pictures… More to come from the resort:


Cell Phone


Nothing, I’m just standing here in line.
Yeah, I got ‘em.  How much? No, not you, you.
Yeah, chips and dip, when’s the game start?
I won’t be late.
You too, See ya there
No, I’m driving.
Hello? Hello!  Sorry man, I just dropped the phone
Yeah, I was flipping off some jerk that cut in line
SCREW YOU!  No, not you, YOU
I’d like a cheeseburger, fries.  I know you’d like one, too.  No, not you, you.
Better make that a combo meal.  No, I’m already buying chips and dip for everyone, buy your own food.  No, not you, I know you don’t sell chips.
Just one combo meal
Alright, see ya there, I’m leaving now.  No, not you, I’m paying now.
Beep, bbeep, beeeep, boop
Hey sweety, how ya doing?
Oh, that’s too bad.  Dropped it at your feet?
Uh huh
Cat’s are like that, sometimes.
Uh huh, yeah
You too.
UR L8 @$$
beep, beep, BBBbeep, boop

Unforgettable Pictures

I went to the west coast of Mexico in 2001. Cabo San Lucas was one of the stops. They recently got hit by a hurricane, so the subject of my most unfrogettable picture is undoubtedly gone forever.

I went on a shore excursion to take pictures of… everything. That place is (was? hope not) awesome. As I was returning, I paused on the dock right at the gangplank. Next to the harbor shuttle was an 8 foot row boat. It was completely swamped, but a dockline still held the stern out of the water. the name of the dinghy? “Titanic”.

People started to jostle around me to get on the shuttle. The porter motioned me onto the boat, and I followed the rest of the people onto the shuttle. I don’t know why I didn’t take the picture. I was a little stunned when I first saw it, it was such a great picture.

It IS a great picture. I just never captured the moment. I think about that picture occasionally when I’m out taking pictures. Photography is about saving one or two moments out of an experience. It’s the experience that creates the photos, not the other way around. Experience flows all around us when we’re living our lives. We see unique and stunning things all the time. We save them for ourselves as memories. Taking the picture lets us share our perspective with other people for just an instant. I have the misfortune of having one of those stunning, funny moments trapped in my head where you’ll never see it, no matter how much I’d like to share it.