here’s what I think. we’re on the run. who? regular guys. that’s who. once upon a time, the world was ours. theoretically, at least. lots of us were scratching out livings digging potatoes “for who would fardels bear?”, eh? but… Continue Reading →
It is refreshing to know that I am not the only person to have noted the often unconscious but profound effects of the media culture we find ourselves immersed in. I imagine the history of materialism is a bit longer… Continue Reading →
there is something unique about our earliest memories, something visceral. I think it has something to do with the nature of our minds at certain stages, phases, whatever. each one of us is different, and in trying to explain it… Continue Reading →
ok, here it comes. there’s a couple of things I really like about working at broadjump. they just do things the way I would. one of the things we have here is a machine dedicated to nothing else but serving… Continue Reading →
I guess I’ve started listening to bj’s and jim’s tapes a lot these past weeks, and if I’m not mistaken I’ve notice a few themes, concious, unconcious, or nonexistent, I don’t know… but on bj’s there’s jethro tull’s “living in… Continue Reading →
there is no percentage in remembering the past… a taj mahal song on the cd bj cut for his brothers, listening to it at work, I find I do remember and ponder the past, or isolated segements of it, the… Continue Reading →
on the protests attendant on the wto, g-8 and other economic summits: anyone who studies the history of populist protest movements will quickly learn that they are easily defeated by the sophisticated organizations against which they protest. they are easily… Continue Reading →
goodnight mom, goodnight dad, goodnight monica, good night casper in heaven, good night remi in heaven good night sara in heaven, good night everyone I love and like including stuffed animals, animals, friends, angels and good people in heaven. good… Continue Reading →
strange, how you remember things, … I just remembered that peculiar mix of salt, sand, mustard and indigestion of eating a hot dog at field nine concession, where the cold wet concrete rubbed against the grit of sand under your… Continue Reading →
I woke early, and in a way, feel like I’m stealing some private time as I quietly slip out trying not to wake anyone. I have this journal in my hand, my blue jeans on because its a little chilly… Continue Reading →
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