Nothing could safeguard the hours they were swallowed up by the days the days swallowed up in weeks

I need this to help me keep track.

The Jazz Age, in which that expression originated, is 100 years ago. Everything before 2020 might as well be, too.

...and that the Kingdom of Heaven is closer at hand than we dare think.

Pumpkin pie, yes. Religion & politics, no. Faith? Let us sing!

A No-Thanks Thanksgiving Poem

It’s actually a good thing, the more you think about it. Still, another thing lost, tears in the rain and all that….

Enjoy your cheeseburgers in paradise, good sir.

Of my haunted Saturday nights. Maybe writing this will finally make that ghost of a theme song go to its rest.

More crimes of noticing in our real-life sci-fi dystopia.

The Dreary Sameness of Hell, again.

Featuring this year’s numbers and some more crimes of noticing.

It was different, but possibly the best, if we strive to fulfill our promises made during our struggles.

It’s December and not yet Christmas, but I’m calling it for 2022. Here's my recap of the year and then some.

Even on the coldest days I’ll gladly lose some heat for the privilege of leaning out of my open window

Are they gone? Good. Because I want those with eyes to see and ears to hear to consider....

I really wish I’d have grown up earlier.

All my life I’ve been yearning for a feeling

“Why would I care what the bacteria in the wall think of me?” was the most intelligent question I’d heard posed by a skeptic of God

In this world, “crazy” is an honorific. And I keep getting crazier....