About Me


      I love beautiful things, lost causes and awkward moments. I’m quite passionate about random nonsense, playful foolishness and always asking why. I’m not fond of museums – they’re stale and boring with rarely a good thing to see. Better I go to a mall loaded with elegant shops and experience a jacket cut by Ermenegildo Zegna, a shoe cobbled by Fratelli Rossetti, a scent by Gucci, cutlery by Christofle. These are my Michaelangelos.

     My favorite French play is Cyrano de Bergerac. The photo above is of Jose Ferrer playing the role of Cyrano in the 1950 film adaptation. Cyrano is a brilliant poet and first-rate swordsman. But because he finds himself so terribly ugly, he dares not reveal his love to the woman of his dreams who loves his poetry but doesn’t know it’s written by him. In the end, as he is about to die, she learns that he’s the writer of the poetry that moved her so much and he learns that she would have loved him despite his appearance. The story inspires those of us bedraggled by our outer-shell to just go for it. 

     My favorite Danish play is An Enemy of the People by Henrik Ibsen. It's the story of one man's struggle against society's hypocrisy. He is hated by everyone because he did the right thing. It's a reminder that standing up for what's right often means having to stand alone. 

     The worst book I ever read was How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie - I’ve never trusted any guy named Dale since.

     My favorite English poet is Steven Patrick Morrissey who penned the line “There’s more to life than books you know – but not much more!” He writes about the pain of being shy, the sadness of a life without love, and his admiration of the heroic in people.


      I think it would be really cool if guys and girls started addressing each other as “miss” and “sir.” (I also wonder if that would make them treat each other more kindly.)

      I dream of the day when logicians are considered as hip and sexy as the trashy are today (but that’s just a logician dreaming).

      I love the paintings of Fernando Botero because they show fat happy people singing and dancing and achieving life’s ultimate goal: Joy!

      I’m grateful for the soothing sadness of “Bruises” by Chairlift for helping me through the tough times by reminding me of third grade, when nice girls appreciated a boy who did headstands for them.

      The happiest time in my life was high school, when having fun was a full-time job, staying thin was easy and every first kiss was filled with thrill and daring.

      I can be brash and bold when “the good ones” so inspire me, but my druthers are really to daydream and doodle. To daydream and doodle, dear reader, it sounds so very exciting to me.

      I’ve always had what they call a “thing” for


       I think she’s so dreamy . Don’t you?

      A few years ago I was asked to write a poem “explaining me” and this was the best I could do:

  A Man of Letters, A Man About Town, A Man of the World (well, really only those parts of it with sound plumbing and creamy ice cream), A Man of Reason, A Man for All Seasons (but not really summer so much); Always a Madman, sometimes a Charming Man, rarely a Drinking Man (by “rarely” I mean at least thrice weekly!), and never a Gambling Man – except when dealing with matters of the heart. When I owe money, the Invisible Man. But for now, more often than not, just “The Boy With the Thorn in His Side.”

      I know, I know, it doesn’t rhyme. No one gets The Smiths reference and it doesn’t even rhyme – but I refuse to rhyme. “Any fool can think of words that rhyme. I will never rhyme!!! My poetry group found me quite scandalous and protested. In a heated moment I told them to go rhyme themselves, which they did and still do, every third Thursday. I was expelled from the group in rhyme by a poem they titled “Sick to Death of You,” which didn’t contain a single gentle word (I can only assume that rhyming dictionaries don’t have any gentle words).

      My expulsion stung a little, but luckily (or unluckily perhaps) being ostracized by conformists has become an acquired taste. Everyone says that the group is happier and more productive without me, but that the poetry now lacks a certain quality they can’t put a name to. I think they’re just saying that to be nice.

      And this is as “About Me” as I can get. I’m not good at formalities, but I’m not socially inappropriate on purpose – well, not most of the time at least . My apologies for not meeting expectations.

      Now sadly, dear reader, life requires useless strife and more seriousness than is really healthy. I hope this site will be short-lived and soon-abolished, which will happen when it’s no longer necessary. That I leave to the powers that be. For the meantime, if you’d like to be notified of any new musings please let me know at


      “The power of accurate observation is commonly called cynicism by those who have not got it.”

George Bernard Shaw


      “The strongest man in the world is the man who stands alone.” An Enemy of the People, Henrik Ibsen