My ten-year-old daughter had a bad day and wanted to vent about it. We ad-libbed a blues song.
My ten-year-old daughter had a bad day and wanted to vent about it. We ad-libbed a blues song.
Observations from reviewing 11 years of sporadic personal blogging.
I’ve started to entertain girl at an Antananarivo pizzeria by drawing pictures on my tablet.
A song written and recorded in the Grand Canyon amid personal challenges.
My friend Moses asked me to find him an American wife. I (eventually) wrote a song about it.
“Look, Mommy! I made bunnies! Which one do you like best?”
“AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH! You drew on the wall!”
Nirvana played the Sun Club in 1989, the same year that my band, Jumping Genes, played there.
I have a piece of metal in my nose. It started with a kiss.
Just thinking about plinking awakens some repressed power fantasies.
I was potty training. He made that step stool for me so I could stand in front of the toilet and clear the rim.
I'll email you when I post something new — and that's all. Promise.