Finding Gold

It is amazing how the digital world is affecting my physical world.

My inhibitions are unraveling.

In the digital world the only thing that holds you back is a key stroke.

This weekend I’ve been on cab rides in Cairo and to a festival in the forest.

All this excitement has changed my attitude toward the public in general.

I’m sharing more.

I know it sounds hippy…

I have to be careful about the hippy talk.

You know you could be shot for that in rural Texas.

Shhhh and don’t tell them I’m from Los Angeles either.

I heard you can be jailed just for visiting.

I’m ninth generation, I’m sure that’s the noose.


Nobody knows.

Although I do buy a lot of avocados and sprouts at the market and say dude pretty often.

When the folks around here ask me about it I just say I watch a lot of TV then immediately point out some random person and say “I haven’t seen them around here before.”

But I’m actually interested in people again.

Everybody has something to offer even if they don’t know it.

I just want to help them find their gold.

The digital world has inspired me to inspire others I see everyday.

I hope, with all my inhibitions unraveling, I don’t turn into an old nudist.


Last night at my oldest son’s football game a retired soldier was acknowledged in the stadium.

The announcer spoke of all the battles he had endured and all the accommodations he had received.

It made me think of all the kids that made it through foster care.

Some had cushy posts but most survived a war zone surrounded by the enemy for many years.

Think of the accommodations and medals they would receive.

Most of the battles these kids survived would make any soldier weep.

My hat goes off to these heroes.

Be proud you made it through the system.

I know I am.

Digital Island

After reading Matt’s essay on 6 Steps to Killing Your Community I got excited.

I came to a realization.

Here I am on my digital island.

The cool thing about my island is that it’s not isolated.

There are digital flights available from all corners of the globe every second of every day going both ways.

I have a chance to build something great.

A place where ideas are fostered and creativity is encouraged.

On my digital island everyone is a champ and will be treated as such.

I declare all art forms are welcome.

Although modern dance kind of freaks me out.

But that’s okay.

I’m not afraid.

In the spirit of global dance, catch a digital flight and check this out. My oldest son turned me on to it.


The VW Rabbit

Larry it’s Ken.

You probably don’t remember me. We worked in Malibu together. Many years ago.

It was back when you had that convertible rabbit.

You used to let me drive it around on my days off.

I’m sorry Larry.

In your car I did everything from fish tails to emergency brake U turns on those canyon roads.

It was my fault that all those road construction guys came after you.

I was tearing down the road in your car when I came across a few miles of orange cones in the road.

I scattered most of them.

Nobody saw me the first time.

A few days later when I came barreling down that road in your car they were all up again.

So I scattered them again.

This time there were construction guys on the road screaming at me.

It was very surreal.

So the next time I brought my cousin.

I knocked down that long line of cones again in your car and we screamed at the construction guys as they threw stuff at us.

It was a long road and we messed with those guys all summer.

I literally scattered miles of cones in your car.

That’s why they came after you. They thought you were me.

Sorry you got your butt kicked man.

I’m truly sorry.


Politically Incorrect

So I see a guy around the office.

His job is to keep stuff clean and deal with the trash.

He has that special look on his face.

He doesn’t talk much. He often makes soft guttural noises as he works.

I see him in the cafeteria. He’s always eating alone.

I remember a grocery bagger in Sedona that I thought had too many bong loads for breakfast one morning.

I was working craft service for a movie of the week. I had two shopping carts full of snacks.

This kid wasn’t bagging my stuff. Just reading labels on all my snacks.

I asked him nicely several times to bag my stuff.

He just kept reading the labels and bagging some stuff and some stuff he would put back down.

Frustrated I finally walked up behind the guy and said, “what are you retarded?”

He turned around and yeah, he was special needs.

He said “hi.”

I apologized.

I vow to do better — offer this guy some humanity.

I walk in the cafeteria one day. He’s sitting alone.

I said “hello” and asked if he minded if I sat there.

He shook his head no.

I’m feeling pretty good. Is this what redemption feels like? I wonder.

I take a seat.

He starts talking.

He’s not special needs.

Within five minutes this guys is loudly describing every intimate detail of his relationship with his girlfriend… in a physical sense.

Everyone within a fifty foot radius could hear this guy pretty clearly.

From their awkward stares I can tell they think I’m in agreement.

I said “No! I sat here because I thought he was retarded.”

I left the cafeteria.

Crazy Eyes

It was a busy day at the mega mart.

A sharp turn off the aisle had me face to face with two tattoo-faced gangbangers.

Every cell in my body sensed trouble. They reaked of crime and suspicion.

They stared at me.

I stared at them… ready to break some collar bones. Ready for anything. That was one of the great gifts of coming of age in boys’ homes. I was about to open up a can of middle aged whoop butt.

I gave ’em my famous boys’ home crazy eyes.

The two young men stepped back and just stood there.

Images of deadly moves rushed through my mind.

Thug One said, “you alright, sir.”

Sir? I thought. I’m not worthy of your harassment? A mugging? A screwdriver in my belly?

Hmm. The crazy eyes must’ve given off a different impression.

Thug Two spoke and interrupted my thoughts. “You okay sir, do you need any help?”

Help? Do they want to help me across the aisle? Do I look that old and feeble?

Looking into their eyes I could see they were generally concerned. Somehow, this was worse than being stabbed in the neck with a pencil.

Sometimes people assume I’m my kids grandpa, but this… this is ridiculous. I told them I was okay.

“Okay sir,” one of them replied.

They called me sir again. I walked off taking a deep breath and chalked it up to having a case of the PTSD sniffles.


I remember when we were young and everything was so black and white. You used to wear those cute little silver bunny-ear hats.

Life was so simple then.

Saturday mornings both of us laughing. It seemed so innocent.

We parted ways for a while and I missed you.

But now that we are back together you’re sucking the life out of me.  You are way too complicated.  Being in your presence everyday is driving me nuts.

You’re telling me how to dress or how to act.

What to eat or how to think.

I’m tired of it.

Your whole story is mostly fiction.

I know you’re smart and sleek but that doesn’t change the fact that what you really are is mostly plastic.

Everybody thinks I’m a dummy for leaving you. I think they are addicted and co-dependent on fictional friends and used to riding bitch in the vehicle of life.

I’m vowing not to ride bitch again with a TV set.

I’m going to relearn all my kids names and reintroduce myself to my wife.

It won’t be hard because we all live in the same small apartment. I want us to get close again. I want to learn everyone’s hopes and dreams.

I have to take the box away… from everybody.  They’re all going to hate me.

Hi everybody, I’m your dad and I want to get to know you again. Isn’t it great for me to be participating with the kids again, honey?

I’m throwing away the TV in the name of family and relationships, but the truth is, I’ve created total chaos and off to work I go.  Good luck, honey!