what was that? is that all there is? who is this? this is it.

Part of my job description involves sorting mail.  Early mornings at the mothership, sorting through tubs of flats and trays of letters from the USPS before heading out on the electric ass bathtub. 

The  first hour of the day I’m in autopilot robot mode sorting through hundreds and hundreds of letters, cards, medical journals, magazines, catalogs, newspapers, large envelopes, whatnots, curios, baubles, trinkets and brick-a-brack knickknacks. Sorting it all into neat little cubby piles for each of the different routes around campus, all the various medical centers, downtown, Harborview, UW Bothell and UW Tacoma too. 

But once in a while, as I’m plowing through it all,  I pause and smile when I realize: “this one’s for me” 

This postcard is from Thai Bui, my penpal in Palo Alto. It arrived on Friday tucked neatly into a tray of letters and ended up in my hands. The postmark placement on the front-side adds to its overall one-of-a-kindness. This is original artwork. And with two stamps on it, you can call it a postcard too. 

read a book

read it again

give  it  to  a  friend

and talk about the zen 

At the University Book Store I paid full-on MSRP for “The Copywriter” and “It Lasts Forever and Then It’s Over” But “Juliet, Naked” and “do not deny me” fell into my hands freely from the little free library. 

The “Body Dynamics” book was also free. Its zen & zest bring me joy on a few different levels with a 66-year-old design aesthetic, artwork and illustrations.  

I do not subscribe to DANCE magazine. I do, however, deliver it to the dance department at Meany Hall 

Madeline Woo got my attention and I took another look 

She is a true badass 

at ALL TIMES on ALL DAYS 

if at first 

you don’t   s e e 

ply a ply again

coats of polyurethane 

pleasing patterns 

in the plywood

apparitions appear

singing loud & clear

Our Lady of Cheap Beer

Rainier

waxing & waning 

it’s never “done”

Doppler Effect blue shift

wabi sabi    r e d   s h i f t

evolving revolving devolving 

if at first 

you don’t   s e e

ply a ply again

recombinant combinations

reiterating   re i t e r a tions

regurgitating regurgitations

in situ

resource

utilizations

doing the same things

e x p e c t i n g

different results

to be continued

ad   n a u s e a m

pull up a chair

What would you do with a stodgy, high-brow AD tote bag from a free pile? 

Pretend you actually subscribe to Architectural Digest?  

Save $0.27 on bag fees at the grocery store? 

Sell it on eBay? 

No

No

No

invert and multiply

flip it    inside out 

& silkscreen on it

amethyst here 

magenta there

n o b o d y 

has one of these

from high gloss AD exclusivity

to beer soaked messenger zine

“What’s a zine?”  she asks

“We’ve been over this before.”  I say and walk away

my other cat is a badass

This is Moon. He’s Cosmo’s brother from the same mother. Litter mates. But polar opposites. Cosmo is big and fluffy and weighs over twice as much as Moon. Moon is skinny and scrappy. Cosmo is lounging in the flower bed pondering philosophical problems. While Moon is in the driveway, on the sidewalk or on the car staring down dogs, holding his ground, arching his back, puffed out tail, hissing and bared teeth. All nine pounds of him defending the block from intruders. Many neighborhood dog walkers cross the street as they approach the house, just to avoid Moon. 

Moon will let you pet him but only when he says it’s OK. Sometimes he’ll take a swipe at my leg as I pass him, drawing blood. When I ask him why he did that, he says, “just for fun. just because I can” 

Several weeks ago Moon came home with a very large wound on his side. After a few hours in emergency surgery and numerous stitches on a huge scar, he survived. He had to stay inside for weeks, wearing a cone. He was not happy.

You can see in the photo his left side is still shaved down as is his left front leg. But he’s happy to be an outdoor/indoor cat again.  

Moon is a badass. 

Cosmo is a fluffy stoner.

Cosmo & Moon

May 21, 2021

"Using vodka to deodorize clothes is a brilliant backstage trick. The alcohol acts as a natural disinfectant, killing the bacteria that cause odors. As the vodka evaporates, it pulls the stale smells out of the fabric with it—leaving no scent of alcohol behind"

I didn't know this until I read about the Pacific Northwest Ballet costume shop blowing through gallons of vodka in "Nutcracker" season. 

It brings me joy to read of UW history while rolling around the UW campus on a purple & gold electric ass bathtub. If you’re just a tiny bit aware of UW football history, you know of Don James, Jim Lambright and Slick Rick Neuheisel.  You probably know of Jerramy Stevens as well. But you'll know a whole lot more when you get into this book. 

I’m only a few chapters in, but I can recommend it to you as I'm rolling along Rainier Vista past Drumheller fountain, on to Husky Stadium, the football office, the Don James statue and Conibear Shellhouse as well. Not to mention the Admissions office, the President’s office and the Board of Regents too. 

This is no “Boys in the Boat” feel good triumph over adversity.  This is no "Snow Falling on Cedars". It’s major college football history with plenty of complicity. 

Similar stories have played out in Eugene, Los Angeles, Boulder, Lincoln, Ann Arbor, Columbus, Austin, College Station, State College, Knoxville, Baton Rouge, Tuscaloosa, Athens, Miami and Gainesville. But most sports reporters stay on the sunny side, always on the sunny side. Glad handing, back slapping, looking the other way, looking at the scoreboard. 

But these two reporters from the Seattle Times didn’t look away. They asked difficult questions. They dug deeper, focusing on the 2000 UW football season and all the criminal behavior that was basically overlooked. 

The title of the book is rather cheesy, but it fits. Neuheisel coined the phrase when he was coaching at Colorado, before he came to UW. Win at all costs: “Scoreboard Baby”

You won’t find this book in the U Bookstore or the UW football office. The Seattle Public Library has only one copy for “in-library use only”. What’s that all about?  I got my copy on eBay for $5. 

Read a book. Read a book. Read a motherfucking book. 

OK  

sounds good

whatever you say

but what room 

are you in?

I can’t see you

because I’m not now

nor have I ever been

in that room

I appreciate 

attention to detail

but these are all

the wrong details

copy that?

copy cat

different drummer

wrong tree

Mr. Misdirected Energy

in the great green room

there was a telephone

and a red balloon

there’s a neurodivergent

elephant in the

smoke-filled room

no corners

in the round room

and fresh

urinal mints 

in the men's room

but not much

elbow room

read the room

Over the past 40 years I have had vague notions of seeing the “Strunk & White”.  Perhaps my highschool English teacher had it on her shelf. Or maybe an account executive at The Gallagher Widmyer Group had it in their office when I was an intern there in 1990. 

But I have no recollection of ever actually reading it.  And I had no knowledge of this illustrated version published 21 years ago. 

Fast forward or rewind to 4/26/26 when 22 Heather showed me her current collection of library books. This book got my attention. I almost got it at the library too. But when I learned more about it, I wanted one of my very own. To have and to hold. To refer to. To chuck in my backpack. To look back on. To check in with.  To Notarize. 

Yesterday I got it. I’ll be looking at it a lot. Here and there. Now and then. On and off. Over and out. 

Thanks to Two-Two too. 

One weekend

two people

told me

orange

reminds 

them of me

now orange

reminds

me of them

full circle

comes around

goes around

counterclockwise

rhymes with orange

seek

and you will find

peak

and you’ll decline

speak

and speak your mind

I’m that guy 

with 9 black hoodies &

one orange one

today’s my Thursday

orange you glad

I didn’t say

Flamin Hot Fritos &

warm Coors Light

orange whip?

orange whip?

3 orange whips

give me your tired 

your poor fiction 

poetry or history 

autobiography maybe

but  don’t  give  me

sad sack self-help books

my other bicycle

is a barstool

LYON

Aurora, IL

steel

of course

as heavy as

the day is long

my other barstool

is Big Time #11

in the corner

rarely available

but when it is

you’ll find me  

repeatedly repeating

same old stories 

over & over

all in my mind

lather

rinse

redux

“There’s a force in the universe that makes things happen. And all you have to do is get in touch with it.”

–Ty Webb

The universe is saying something when the Jesus rays align with the parallel spokes straddling the valve hole. 

pay attention

wait

what?

what were you looking at? 

Friday afternoon I was unpacking my giant backpack. Looking specifically for my taillight and headlight so I would remember to recharge them over the weekend. After hauling all my shit out of the bag I couldn’t find the headlight. Then I took another look at the clothing pile and found the light stuck to the forearm of my jacket. It was still warm to the touch when I grabbed it.  The light melted a hole through the jacket like a cigarette that didn’t find the ashtray. 

The jacket has three brown circles burned in, one of them goes all the way through. The lens of the headlight has a permanent brown skidmark smudge. Both, badges of honor to remind me of that day, the day I saw the light. 

In full sunlight commuting home, I plan to schlepp this thing home in a tall-can coozie hand made by those guys at DANK bags. I used to think that on a Seattle spring day overheating my headlight was not an issue.  If it’s strapped on my handlebars for the ride home it stays cool. But if it’s buried in my big backpack – under a U-lock, helmet, hat, pump, tools, jacket, hoodie, gloves, lunch bag, coffee thermos and several books from Foster’s book club meeting – there’s a chance the Lezyne 1400 could overheat.  

Fortunately Lezyne built in a shutdown feature that kicks in when the light reaches the red zone. Before Friday I found that feature to be theoretical or unachievable in Seattle. But then I saw the light. 

The pile of stuff I unloaded from the backpack included a few books from Foster’s Big Time Book Club Friday afternoon courtesy of Mo Fo. One of the books I came home with is Roald Dahl’s “Switch Bitch”.  It brings me joy to think of the spine of this book situated just so and pressing on the headlight just right somewhere deep inside the Ortlieb. A switch bitch switch. 

You’re probably familiar with Dahl’s many children's books, like Matilda, The BFG, James & the Giant Peach, and Willie Wonka. I knew of all those stories and resulting movies. But I didn’t know much about Dahl’s adult books. Although I was quite aware of the “snozzberries tasting like snozzberries” on Willie Wonka’s edible wallpaper, I didn’t know exactly that Dahl used snozzberry in his adult novel “Uncle Oswald” as  a euphemistic term for some male anatomy.

The four stories in this book were all originally published in Playboy magazine between 1965 and 1974.  The stories are entertaining but they’re dated, misogynistic and may offend more than a few people in 2026. The third story in this collection is a real bummer: "The Last Act".   I suggest you skip over that one. I'll save you the trouble. 

This is Cosmo. He’s a cat and he knows what’s what. Cosmo enjoys sleeping and eating and lounging in the sun. He does things but never with any sense of urgency. Cosmo has endless philosophical problems to ponder and thousand-yard stares to stare. 

Cosmo doesn’t give two shits about Jiffy corn muffin mix and has not trained his eye on discarded dental picks. Cosmo is oblivious to marketing mumbo-jumbo jibber-jabber.  Cosmo isn’t too impressed with Telemachus, the cat on the cover of Carole King’s “Tapestry”.  But Cosmo respects other cats and he thinks it’s amazing how famous a cat can get from an old album cover, "what's an album?"  he asks.

Sometime in the past few years we talked about a poem featuring Telemachus. I cannot locate the poem but if you find it let me know. 

A few days ago, Mother’s Day eve-eve-eve, as I was searching for that poem, I sent a text to my stepmom to let her know that I was thinking of her and “Tapestry” reminds me of her. And she responded with:

Wow. That's a walkdown memory lane. Did I ever tell you that her father taught me how to swim when I was a little girl and I met her? She was a teenager and I don't have any real memory of her. I was really little. 

Happy Mother's Day

to all the moms 

#3 photo {here}  10 years later

rusty chain & flat tires

wabi sabi Wamsley triptych 

07

Cloudburst

Beautiful Bouquet

I P A

display

clearly 

hazy

what we talk about

when we talk about

Jiffy corn muffin mix

In 1911 Raymond Duchamp asked a few artist friends, including his younger brother Marcel, to make small oil paintings to hang in his kitchen. Marcel went with a “Coffee Mill” in oil paint on cardboard 5" x 13". He included an arrow to help the viewer see the motion of the handle. That little arrow in that little painting was kind of a big deal. 

Two years later Marcel Duchamp created “Bicycle Wheel” and there was no need to include an arrow in the ultimate readymade, just reach out and give it a spin and the viewer     ---    views the motion. 

A few days ago Ric brought my attention to the MoMA retrospective of Duchamp with his words on Wheel Fanatyk. Then  the next day the New Yorker fed me a story about Duchamp inspired by the MoMA show in the May 4, 2026 issue.  

When various forces in the universe come together and focus on something, I pay attention. I will not be visiting the museum in New York but I’ve already learned more about Duchamp than I knew a few days ago. 

I pulled my bicycle wheel sculpture from its sad storage spot under the stairs and dusted it off. It was really really dusty. 

In 1996 I “borrowed” this stool from Kids Co, my POE at the time. I drilled out a hole for a fork and slapped a wheel on it. Several years later I swapped out the nameless fork for this REDLIP fork that I bent one morning bombing down Denny and plowing into the back of a Cadillac that had stopped suddenly mid-hill.

The wheel changed several times. But for the past 20 years or so it has been this radially laced thing I built and rode downtown until the sidewalls were as concave as a cereal bowl. Seattle sidewall syndrome develops as your brake pads grind away at your rims over time. I once rode a wheel until the tire exploded when the sidewall peeled away as I took a right turn downtown. After that incident, I paid a bit more attention to my wheels. 

In 2011, I spray painted the stool green. I remember the year because that's when Junior was born and she was there in the backyard with me. Junior’s mom was worried about the paint fumes. I’ll tell you that whole green spray paint story some day. 

Yesterday I reached up on a high shelf for my Time-Life Art Library book about Duchamp and his influence on various artists. I have the 1974 re-reprint and I’m actually starting to read it. I was surprised to learn how many copies of this book are available out there in the world if you want to get one for yourself.