When finger painting was all the rage. Continue reading →

My tea’s gone cold, I’m wondering why I got out of bed at all. Continue reading →

If Vermeer had an iPad he might’ve drawn it like this. Continue reading →

Our hero awakes. Startled by the noise and the stranger in his room, he sits bolt upright in his bed. Continue reading →

A long time ago, I had a girlfriend and I used to sing to her. Continue reading →

What was it like to have so much hatred for someone she does not even know? Continue reading →

I’m not sure why they call him Slowhand. Continue reading →

I opened the book and, on the very first page, was the program that changed my life. Continue reading →

The Golden Treasury of English Verse and a harmonica were my only mementos of civilization. Continue reading →

I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance three times Continue reading →