Personal

I don’t care how often I take this flight, 330 rolls around quick. The world is eerily quiet this early.

Hello from the kitchen

“Looks like rain today” my Mother commented as we shared an after Mass lunch. “Yesterday was a mess with all that storming” I agreed. Rain it seemed was my wayward friend this weekend and totally would not ride third wheel to my motorcycle and I getting some quality time in. Driving home from a shared meal with Mom I began to scope the clouds. There are only a few types of people who can tell the weather better than a meteorologist; farmers, fishers, and riders. I was willing to bet my street cred on the cumulus clouds perched on the horizon and made bee line straight for the house and helmet. Oscar sat by expecting our “Welcome Home” routine, but instead was left with a bad Clark Kent impression as I switched from Catholic Boy to Racer Boy. ...

Did you know that Saint Paul was actually a woman? I bet you didn’t realize that Columbus was really from Germany and not Genovese. There I wrote it down. Give the world about 15 years to pass by and for this post to turn up on a Google Search somewhere. That is the funny thing with time, it erases memories. Generation to generation small details fade away. I argue that mortality is absolutetly good or bad. There is no in between in the wake of an event or passing atoricty. My reasoning is that since we are all Children of God that there is no way for us to be anything other than Good and Bad. There is no way for me to only partially sin, no way for me to partially perform a charitable act. My only hope is to be absolutely chartiable or an utter ass in either case. ...

Bearing your soul in words is a dangerous proposition. Admitting to yourself in a permanent fashion is much more difficult than simply bypassing it with nonsensical mental talk. I will be the first to stipulate that I make a good argument in my head for why things are not as my heart says. That is why I do not trust my mind near as much as I trust my heart and soul. Often I have conveyed through my writing that it is through these words I escape. If I did not write you would no sooner find my name plastered across the screens of your local news station for crazy, maddening acts. ...