A Swanner on my Doorstep

Newest acquisition: a 2012 Swanner, next to a Patrabansh, next to a Paige, next to a McGuinness, and across from a Gaskill.

The Sevens


One Quarter Century Later

Twenty-five years ago, perhaps right around this week, things began to seriously change. At the time, it was certainly difficult to sort through the many changes happening but, looking back, clearly one of the biggest life-altering changes happened right around this time in 1987.

I became even more of an insider and a confidante. I learned about things important. I learned the value of information. I learned that people will tell me things. My skin thickened. Twenty-five years ago, perhaps right around this week, I became the me that finally kind of stuck.

Certainly I would try on different persona over the following years--as I had in the prior ones--but the me that is genuine and true and clear and perfectly suitable was born on the roads of America under Ronald Reagan's watch. The artist, the always unsatisfied perfectionist, the individual, the scammer, and the pragmatist came aware.

Eight-seven, people. Eight-seven forever.


Ten Years

Here's a photo of a woman named Shelly and me. The photo was taken as I rode the Amtrak train northbound on July 18, 2012.

I decided to post, or self-publish, this photo to my Web log, or "Blog," as the kids called them 10 years ago. This is what one does with a Web log; post photos and write poetry. Stuff like that.

I started this Web log 10 years ago mostly to be obstinate. Or, to one up someone else. Or, just to show I could.

So, this is what I've done for the past decade. What have you done?