Stuff

or at least, there should be some organ music accompanying this little blog, as it is more of an inspirational thing that i am writing about today, and to be quite above board here i should also tip my do-rag in the general direction of firesign theater for the title above.it’s a nasty rainy morning […]

i have been trapped in a circular wordbooker problem, and had to call in the BIG GUN– ms jo lynn, who proceeded to make her magic and so hopefully this little bloggeroo will make it all the way to the facebook page. BUT!! this means that my last REAL blog– as opposed to all those

for it has been quite some time since i have blogged. busy i suppose, but also not the right energy that i like to have to compose one of these things. this would tend to suggest that today i DO have that specific energy, but for the life of me, i cannot tell– still and

who needs anemonies? yeah, not the sharpest nor the truest flying joke in my quiver, but it is somewhat apropos, as will become more obvious as you read along. this last week my friend tony asked me to help him with a family coming down to dive– the alts– parents, julie and myron, and the

and gasped– it was so darn hard!! but i had to reach it, so i stuck one arm up between his legs and the other around his arm, stretching deeply, probing and poking with the tip of the rasp, slowly wearing down the doofus of stone until it wasn’t there any more– one more down,

i truly had no idea that i was gonna write a blog today, but from what happened this morning i guess it was preordained!! when i went out to my sculpture studio this morning, toting along all my tools and such, i was presented with this little spectacle– moths balling!! even if i had not

ray walston (of “my favorite martian” fame) uttered this line, one i have toted along with me for many a year, and a few minutes ago i accessed just what movie it was. what i came up with was “convicts 4”, which didn’t sound exactly like what i had imagined it to be, but at

to begin with, i must say that my last blog didn’t publish to facebook, so anyone wanting to keep current on this should go to my website– www.caribbeanrance.com — and check out “27– have you ever seen a butterfly cry?”. just like any serial, if you miss a segment you can find yourself in the

“no, but i’ve seen a moth ball!!”. i was going to begin this with something dramatic, like “phoenix risen from the ashes” or some such, but i shall leave stuff like that for peeps like tim robbins– instead, i was more thinking of taking something out of mothballs, and whadda ya know, this is the

and other sundry things– golly, for an offseason this has not been too bad for me!! i have been working a bunch on the boats of late. good for the pocketbook indeed, and a bonus– i truly love diving!! but this has meant i have had to shoehorn in a lot of other stuff– seahorses,

we saw our protagonist, he was busy trying to breathe some zest into his painting, living on the knife edge between craft and art, and generally having to gird his mental loins to go beyond what had come before. in the end i got to a point where i thought it was pretty finished– and

what was it that i was last talking about before this long traverse to spain and morocco and burying a dear friend– mr spike– at sea? i remember now… the painting!! or, rather, at that time it was a mere sketch, messy pencil marks on a canvas that looked like mascara after a good weep–

“sissy– silly– fou fou– little rat dog”– i can remember meeting my diminutive chum and thinking perhaps words similar, although the actual verbiage escapes me at the moment. i have never been much of a fan for smaller dogs, thinking them mostly high-strung and noisy, barking more than is needful, always underfoot, always needing a

the return trip to barcelona was like being sucked through a glass straw backwards– it was one of those looong days!! actually slept in a little, but got up to gratefully drink down a couple cups of strong coffee, then a short wander uphill towards the ancient keyhole gate, but first a stop for breakfast–

“didja know we’re riding on the marrakesh express…”– close, but as they say– no cigar!! it IS a train, though. up verrry early, to sneak out of cadiz in darkness. the highway quiet and almost deserted, and escaping town marvellously easy– cadiz, expect to see me again sometime!! the run to tarifa, where the ferry