i have an open sense of humor. if it's funny, i'll laugh. any subject, regardless of how tragic, sad, sacred, tawdry, private, or embarrassing it may be has the potential to become hilarious if presented in the proper manner. i know from personal experience because if something tragic, sad, sacred, tawdry, private, or embarrassing happens to me and no one is there to witness it, i must let them in on it. i love to watch the absolute joy encompass people's faces as they laugh at my stupidity and/or tragic luck while i laugh along. i've found that by searching through the debris of personal peril caused by bad decisions, no decisions, misguided decisions, well-intended decisions, or, basically any of my decisions, i can locate a black box which contains the outline of a truly funny and educational story i feel obligated to share with my friends, or sometimes, strangers. i've found it to be contagious. it's almost as if they try to one-up me with their own stupidity. let's face it, all of us are capable of raw stupidity at least once a day, even if we never leave the house.

i like to help people in difficult situations, and for some reason, i especially like to help people i don't know and will probably never know when i see them in difficult situations. sometimes, though, initially this makes the recipients of my kindness uncomfortable. they question my motivation. what's my angle? i can see it in their eyes, sense their trepidation as they consider my offers of assistance. the men keep their hands on their wallets, the women gain a little tighter grasp on their purses. somehow, though, they allow me to help and i'm gone. no names exchanged, no reward accepted, no more problem. good stuff.

i don't have a lot of friends. like 'love', the word 'friend' gets thrown around too much. i have many acqauintances, people whose company i truly enjoy. people i find interesting and compatible. people whose paths i cross sporadically and with whom i enjoy a beer and some lively conversation. these people are potentially friends, but frankly, you don't know who your friends truly are until after the defecation hits the oscillating rotation.

I am outgoing, reclusive, and ambivalent.

reevaluating, mostly. trying to figure out some way to take my passions, incorporate them with my strengths, minimize my weaknesses while never losing sight of their potential catastrophic abilities, and creating a satisfying existence.

I don't know if I'm REALLY good at anything, but I'm pretty sure I'm KINDA good at a lotta things.

honestly, no one has ever told me. initially, i don't think people do notice me. i tend to blend in, i suppose. it's not unusual for people to mistake me for someone else. sometimes it's someone local, occasionally someone famous. i never see the similarity. much.

all-time favorite book: "suttree" by cormac mccarthy. i read it about once a year and it means more each time.
"fear and loathing in las vegas", hunter s. thompson
movies: godfathers I&II, goodfellas, my favorite year, mystery train, raising arizona, old school, the last picture show, the pope of greenwich village, body heat, hail-hail rock and roll, antone's home of the blues.

music: tom waits, tom petty, tom-tom club, brian waldschlager, bryan ferry, howlin' wolf, pere ubu, rem, the stranglers, john prine, john doe, dave alvin, big audio dynamite, george jones, patti smith, merle haggard, lou reed, jason and the scorchers, nrbq, rb morris, mark sallings, the tragically hip, smokin'dave&thepremodopes, billy joe shaver, kirsty maccoll, johnny cash, 10cc, world bazaar, gabriel's genesis, pink floyd, lefty frizell, todd snider, steely dan, the v-roys, richard thompson, doc watson, loudon wainwright III, chris whitley, xtc, lucinda williams, neil young, frank zappa, johnny winter, henry parilla, rick huff, the replacements, government cheese, robert earl keen, joe pug, james mcmurtry, on and on and on...

food:authentic mexican- i mean the kind you have to buy from mobile venues or beg from latin-american friends. seriously, nothing you buy from established restaurants have the real stuff.
honest-to-goodness homemade southern country cuisine: i grew up in middle tennesse and every night my mom made either homemade buttermilk biscuits or homemade cornbread (in a cast-iron skillet). it didn't matter what was on the lazy susan, it was gooooood. sometimes when the garden came in, there wouldn't be any meat but you didn't notice until later. homegrown corn, homegrown tomatoes, potato pancakes, cornbread, green beans, fried squash, and blackberry cobbler for dessert. can't get this anymore but it's still my favorite.

memories
photographs
guitars
laughter
beauty
hope

the first guy who was ever hungry enough to eat an oyster.
how a telephone really works. (i don't know, i'm just sayin')
how a television really works. (i don't know, i'm just sayin')
it gets really hot down here. why don't we utilize solar power?
why isn't the inventor of pizza lionized?
reincarnation.
gratification.
justification.

working a while, wondering a while, relaxing a while, writing a while, sleeping a while.
laughing the whole time.

whereas earlier in life i was sure of my vast knowledge, with each passing year i'm more painfully aware of my gaping ignorance.

you actually made it to the end of this awful offering.