Remote Control

The rooster crows early. Still dark. It’s off key.

One of the many sounds of the night out here. Fewer and fewer wake me up as my ears have gradually grown to identify them all.

Each sheep chewing cud makes me picture it’s cute face. Pleasant night time images.

I’ve been finding sleep more restful. But last night I was restless.

Thoughts. Ideas. Wanting to get started. My excitement is matched by my anxiety of trying to piece it all together.

I checked the time at 6. The alarm went off at 6:30.

Last one out of bed makes it. I fell too easily into that routine. But the past week has been better.

We get up together. She grabs her work gear. I grab mine.

It is unusually warm this morning, so I get back in bed.

No fancy chair. No dress code. No wifi either. But the commute is short.

I lay on my belly writing. As I pause to think, my eyes drift. The bed sits under a big old barn. Massive beams support a corrugated metal roof. Rachel is wearing a cute fluffy hat while she milks the goats and sheep. Animals are all around me. Including Rachel and I, we are one shy of twenty sleeping under this roof.

This morning, this is my office.

Read On…


My mind is a wheel. As it continues to spin, I realize I won’t fall asleep until it slows down a bit.

But that’s hard. The sunrise after next, four wheels are going to be spinning an awful lot.

Our mapped itinerary resembles one of those old connect-the-dots drawings, one penciled by a 6 year old navigating his first wet fart. Over 25 stops. Over 100 hours of driving time. Back to back family reunions. The company we seek from age 6 months to 85.

Where does this meandering path lead?

I can’t say. I don’t know.

But I can tell you why, and that I know it is right.

Another time. The spin is beginning to slow.

To Retire

Roth IRA


Stock Options




There will come a day that I will want to stop working. Then what?

That’s what I’m told, that I should start planning for retirement.

Read On…

Rebuilding the Pyramid

The abstract has structure too. A base on which things are built. It’s simple physics. If the foundation loses its structural integrity, there is risk of collapse. I’m an engineer, I should understand that.

But what I was doing felt too much like floating. Why worry about physics if I’m defying gravity?

But I wasn’t. I’d been trying to tell myself that. The cruise was terminal.

The road had not yet been built.

This thought had not yet fully manifested. A gentle knocking. A wisdom nugget shaken loose after months of introspective calcification. I ignored it.

Instead, realization came in the form of a collision. Pedaling down a road, I was struck by a bus.

Read On…

Tres Años

Lost. Deep in the woods. The first big ride of the season. I was exhausted from the tricky terrain and steep hills. Chugging along because what else is there to do. As long as you keep moving, eventually you find something. Something familiar maybe, anything to give you a sense of where you are and what direction you need to go. Read On…

A Drop in 660,000 Gallons

You should know, I’m coming for you. Your scent is in the air. Like blood to a shark. The water is murky, but I will find my way.

When you least expect it, I will appear. I’ve been shut up. My own doing. I’m kind of pissed about it.

Now I’m hungry.

No idea where I’m going. Know not what I’m doing.

But it’s time to feed.

It could get messy.

But rest assured.

It will be a feast.

Blood in the Water

State of Play

I had this fantasy of what it would be like. A garage, make shift office, with extension cords and a floor cold, damp, and stained with oil. We’d pee through a crack between the boards of an unfinished wall that the light shines through. A mini fridge stocked with kool-aid, beer, and cottage cheese. I’d stash carrot sticks in the scraggly neck beard adorning my face. For a snack. We’d work incessantly. Stop occasionally to play basketball. Both of us, terrible, but competitive, aggressive, and boastful. It’s a game of charlie horses and shit talk. Our release. The scrapes on our knees crack open and sting when we sit back down to work. And we’d create something.

It’s like the geek version of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Dweeb outlaws blowing up railroad cars of conformity. Coding our way into the sunset. A pocket protector’s wet dream. My shoddily thought out romantic take on what it must be like to start a tech company.

Well, not my idea. My little cliche frankenstein baby. The way I envisioned Jobs and Woz, Brin and Page. Arnold and Pheiffer with the style points of Clinton and Gore. Real life superhero duos.

So I put put on my mask. Stubborn, defiant, naive. So much so that it might work. And who cares if it doesn’t. The important thing is…

Read On…

The Fade |A Haiku|

The Fade

Love, memories, light
Vanilla, Big Daddy Kane
High, bright, fade away

Gone. Be a new day
Same? Same same but different
Ok? Yes, let go

What’s thought lost, below
That which burns bright will always stay
What fades still can grow