“Sea Weed”

So nice to simply move across some invisible line and instantly be free of criminality.

The first time I smelled the puff of a magic dragon, the minty green stuff became one of my favorite things in life. I was apparently breaking the law though. Over the next 40-years, there were quite a few more illegal smiles had. More than a couple of times when heart pounding paranoia wafted from my Purple door.

Somehow I’ve always maintained my sanity and my memory; I’ve balanced my check book, my work with my play, and maintained my freedom nicely. The stuff has always fed my desire to create, and it is likely responsible somewhat, for why I’m an incessant, multitasking, OCD-doodler to this very day.

It’s also likely the reason why I’ve taken nearly 40-years to decide to assemble some of my “high art,” (giggle) into a formal collection.

I’m fascinated with the idea of taking what is essentially a quickly drawn, free-form stream of consciousness doodle, and giving something of a heartbeat to it. Playing with the lines between reality, the note pad, my Bic ink pen, and my mind.

In a world where laws can rob us of such simple pleasures, and at a time when life can seem so overwhelming, my vote this election year, is for more whimsy, less oppression. More freedom to breathe as we wish, with less suffocation from Government.

So, stay tuned … no really, it’s perfectly okay now.









It’s official overkill. Media, in all its forms, spanking our sensibilities beyond anything we’ve ever known before. How do we make sense of it all?

People are drawing lines. Some for the first time, squiggling into areas they’ve never pictured themselves entering. Others are emboldening the ones they’ve drawn with intent all their life.

Time to draw upon our own instincts, understanding and truth.

But do reads the Wikileaks. Do be aware of what the news channels are saying and not saying. There is something going on here that feels like a smarmy hand on a crowded subway.


One of the most poignant posts to come across my social media ticker tape this past year declared:

The LEFT wing and the RIGHT wing are both equal parts of the same bird.

After watching the last debate, I felt compelled to interpret the above saying with a little doodle.

What can we live with? What are we willing to die for? Can we be compelled to greatness  as a nation while such corruption and depravity pools up about our ankles? No one will get out unscathed from the bile surrounding the voting booths this year. Each of us will track something home, into the sanctity of our private lives no doubt.

Light a candle. Watch the shadows dance. Pick a card, any card …