Here are the writing projects that I'm working on.



Norman Rockwell with a twist.

Take 2


And call me in the morning if you're still alive.



Inside an internet startup.

Posts from Pluto


Posts from my years on the outer edge of the universe.

Selections from Life 1988 ~ 2012

Life 1988 - 2012

Selected pieces from my Life Journal.

Becoming Berkeley


The journey to becoming one with Berkeley. And all that implies...


A time when you left your doors unlocked.

Demarest was only 10 miles from Manhattan, but it felt like another world. Catching fire flies in the summer in a jar, poking holes in the lid so you'd have a lantern glowing all night long. Exploring the "first stream" in the woods at the end of Central Avenue hunting for salamanders and minnows. The haunted house at the far edge of the woods where old man Davies had bricked up his son inside the house. The pond had crayfish, snapping turtles and huge carp. In the winter we'd pass it by on our way to the evening toboggan runs on the Alpine Country Clubs' famous 13th hole.



Film production in New York City.

You hardly slept, and the line between working and partying blurred every day. The clubs were infamous, and the feel of the city was hard to shake. Flying in from a remote location, I could feel the adrenaline surge as you banked and the skyline came into view. The first thing after dropping off the equipment was sushi. Head downtown, climb the six flight walk-up, pass the resident pimp/dealer in the hall, and head out into the night.


Spheres of Influence

"We can do this" I said as we roared up the 5 at 120mph.

The meetings at Fox turned out to be the beginning of an incredible ride – literally and figuratively. Not the sort of ride that made you a billionaire in a dot.com IPO. But I could see the possibilities flying by in the fog. Finishing the second bottle of champagne as we flew past Harris Ranch, I thought maybe it wouldn't be so great if we were crushed by one of the blurring trucks we just flew by. Well, we made it to San Francisco that night.



It's really, really cold out on the edge of the universe.

Worst of all, Pluto was downgraded from a planet during my stay out there. Insult to injury. In a slow arc towards nothingness, things you thought were so important flake away like so many flecks of cosmic dust. Like the love of your life whose face you can no longer place, Earth and all the people on it faded into a vague wisp of memory. It's so very cold. So very far away. Have I become a faded glimpse in my loved ones memories?



Back in 88' I started a file called "Life".

I made a QuicKey shortcut on my new Mac SE. So I could press a function key, and my "Life" would open up, scroll to the end of the doc, and date and time stamp itself. Return, Return, and a blank line was waiting for me. Here are some excerpts from over 20 years of Life files. Strange how some things change but yet so much remains the same.



When you move here it's more than a geographical shift. More like a massive mental continental drift.

Bezerkeley. Didn't really understand the dig until I spent a few minutes here. Then, one scene after another, it became clear. A beautiful, socailly forward place where cool fadding hippies, handicapped and extremely enabled people, and everyone of every variation in between and betwixt has a wide berth in the community. There are moments when the guy screaming outside at 3am makes you wonder, but then again it's life. And I love it.