Sunday, February 15, 2004


Overheard conversation at the Nodding Dog Coffee Company:  "Mmm!  Mexican vanilla--my two most favorite flavors!"

Which reminds me of the time I went to see a play for blind people in Fort Worth last autumn with Shayne and Stephen.  There were several Hispanic men sitting in the audience in front of us.  One looks at another and says, "We eat fruit.  But we don't pick it."

The snowstorm yesterday was truly spectacular!  The most snow we've had in these parts since 1978.  But today it's already melted, and spring hangs in the air.

I've stretched myself too thin these days, spending hours on projects that people with money would simply delegate to others:  building web sites, programming, designing, organizing, marketing, as well as being the creative genius behind the scenes.  Just tired.  Really tired.

Friday, February 13, 2004


Lyrics from a lost song by Frankie Noir: "I've had this shark attached to my ankle for such a very long time / Ever since I went swimming in the waters off the coast of my mind."

This past Wednesday I sank to new depths. When I was an undergraduate in Arlington and had to decide whether to pay my rent or to eat with the money I earned from my three part-time jobs, I developed the nasty habit of eating cold pasta sauce on crackers. But Wednesday I went beyond the abyss and had salsa and shredded cheese. And I ate it with a fork. Two helpings. God have mercy on my soul. Was it any coinky-dink that I had been working on my income taxes earlier this week? Necessity is a mother! ... and the Mother of Fine Cuisine. My friend Shayne said it sounded a bit too Sam Shepard for her, and she promptly hung up.

Again Bertolucci is caught with his pen, inking in the details of my own dirty mind. How did he know?!?! I've kept the plot of his latest film my dirty secret for almost as long as I can remember. (And yes, we're talking pre-natal, Baby.) The irony is that I'll have to travel far beyond my ZIP code--and even past the frontiers of my area code--to see my fantasy in full-blown celluloid majesty. The Dreamers opens in Austin on February 20th. (Brother and sister teams can find me there....)

Reading about our President's war for re-election has helped get that song "Fortunate Son" by Credence Clearwater Revival in my head all morning: "It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son...." (J. Fogerty). This election year is brought to you by the letter F and the number 19. Rest in peace, Uncle Frank (1946 - 1966).

Monday, February 2, 2004


This new year I resolve to work toward greater consistency (like a fine mousse), to rid myself of excess (particularly 25% of personal possessions), to de-brand what I can, to exhibit my art, and to train for a 10K.  Considering I successfully kept last year's resolutions, I decided to make these more physically rigorous and challenging.  As soon as I can breathe normally again--a short-term goal ever since developing a cold a week ago--I'll be back in the gym to run, run, run, because according to my ayurvedic guru, I must exhaust myself before I am able to tap into the energy reserves that lay dormant within.  I knew there was something taking up all that room.

I would also like to take this time to wish Lisa Marie a very happy birthday.  I did indeed think of you yesterday, as I have for the past 36 years.

Well, Phil (the groundhog; hence, Groundhog's Day) saw his shadow this morning, so six more weeks of winter, which here in Texas means temperature in the 50s and 60s and some light rain.  And that's only if the two or three days of winter we've already had were any indication.

Yesterday I received birthday greetings from my friends all over the world.  My favorite was from Dima in Moscow, Russia:
Let me just wish you to leave as bright a trace in this life as possible, and all the luck and power and will required to do so.
Thanks.  I'll try not to disappoint.