i've been writing my whole life. of course.
in 2004 i started my first blog which i named longing and bliss. i was living in the converted garage on franklin street. it was fall. baby J had been born a few months before, in july. during the dead of winter he had his skull surgery. that year is most notable for those two events.
i continued working on this piece through the time i spent living as a caretaker at the macaw refuge which was a little over two years. the blog abruptly ended one late afternoon in july 07 when a ghost-from-christmas-past, the christmas of 91 in actual real time, a real ghost named shannon, took over the keyboard for me. the 2nd-to-last entry of that blog tells the story of the moment "obsidian" began. you can read it here.
i wrote obsidian in one big rush. eventually it became eight short prose pieces which i narrated over music tracks i composed. i wrote ghosts first, and sat with it awhile, unsure of where it was going to fit and how the story was even going to go. over the next few weeks they all came together, resulting in an eight track compilation. it is here.
in november, 2008 i left the refuge and moved back into town. for the first couple of months i was house sitting in a big old rambling place in woodstock. it was there that caleb was diagnosed with his heart condition. it was there where i started waking up fast and hard. it was also there where i wrote "husk."
also in november, 08, obama wins and in january 09 he's inaugurated. by march, caleb has been born, the neil young cover band has imploded in a fire-ball from hell, and even though the fire's so hot at my back i don't run away, i walk, guitar case in hand. i tell them to tell the twelve year old something, anything. i suggest stealing. anything to take the fall. stealing is simple for me to suggest since i don't do it so there's no shame. i don't know what they told him. it doesn't really matter.
while living in the attic from january 09 through the summer, i put together some digital stories. they are sorta fun and you can watch them here.
while living in the attic from january 09 through the summer, i put together some digital stories. they are sorta fun and you can watch them here.
fall, 1990, i returned to school at the university of oregon and eventually found myself in the advanced fiction writing class led by ralph salisbury. it's there i "became" a writer. during those years, through the 90s, i wrote the novel obsidian as well as several short stories, three of which were published with the first presses i submitted to. i wrote randomly, then, though diligently. i had yet to understand "the muse," but i knew there was more going on than me sitting down at a table to write.
that work, sans the novel, is posted here, and includes the collection of poems i wrote in the summer of 1999 after returning to the mountains from camp pendleton. i wrote those all in a rush too, sitting in my empty house on the floor with no water or electricity but with one salvaged dog and an old ford truck. i called the collection "please catch the next wave and ride your board to shore. i still like that. it's here.
in honor of baby j's landing on the planet, i put together a 9 cd compilation of my family's eclectic taste in music. i enjoyed writing the liner notes to the set called radio. i've always loved the radio. the notes are here.
february, 02, i leave the mountains and come home to my city. i spend the next three years painting on old glass windows. these paintings sell. a lot. i also (used to) teach guitar lessons out of the old artichoke music on hawthorne boulevard, back when it was owned by _________. in july of 05, i lead a blues guitar workshop; roughly 75 kids attend over the six weeks. they are, also, invited to play at the portland blues festival, the first time children ever perform there. i didn't write much those years... too busy with other things.
now, july 2010, i find myself here. much has changed in eight years but much has changed in 8 months, 8 days. these past days, as a matter of fact, i've slept, right around 14 hours a day. tired. things caught up.
but it's nice to have the stars aligned enough so that i can sleep and not get fired or thrown to the curb. it's like a spa, really, living here at this house again with the two black dogs and one black cat, this house where so many things have happened.
and it's nice, too, to be rested, and to have the energy and focus to again begin writing. in hindsight, there have been many, many julys like this one, times of accelerated transformation, times of intense production. i will keep you posted. pun.
thanks for being here and see you next time,
love.
ps: see the page "time line" for a more coherent and linear view of this page.
note: this portfolio abruptly ends. for updates please visit my home page.