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Ramble of the day. I’ve been thinking about quests lately. I haven’t read enough of Joseph Campbell’s stuff, so let me know if I’m reinventing the wheel here. Two traits of a quest: motive for quest and object of quest, i.e., “to save the world” and “magic sword.” I’m trying to work out some realistic, […]

Brotherhood. My brothers are driving out from South Dakota to come visit us. Upon hearing that we were moving, the older of the two said, “Great. This is just a plot to get us to help them move.” When I told my mother, her reaction was, “Do you need stuff? The guys are driving out

Containament Ever have that feeling when you can’t write…ah, yes, writer’s block. I feel blocked. I wish I knew what was back in here, building up. There’s something. Like a sneeze. I’m starting to get twitchy.

Guest blogging by Ray. -bvvvnb n cxzzaz k j6ytr, ms nem zxc ccq`t5we (Now the keys are all spitty.)

Fingers crossed, pointed shoes not dropping… Joe and his roomie have come to the point of irreconcilable differences. (Having decided that the differences are irreconcileable, Joe’s started on the admirable work of getting over it. Most impressive.) The roomie is moving out. Unless some other shoe drops and crushes the house (in a strange reversal

Neil Gaiman. A neat little essay he wrote on his new children’s book, Coraline, at Borders.

Hm… I’ve always been moody. Not as much as some, obviously; I don’t have bipolar disorder or anything. No, just moody. Nothing to whine home about. My musing of the day is that perhaps my mood swings are the reason I find Buddhism and Taoism so appealing. It’s not that I don’t want to have

Raynotes. Here are some things I want to remember: She and the cat get along now. She’ll sit beside the cat and pat him (not gently) until…well, pretty much until she gets so excited that she throws herself over backwards and lies there giggling to herself. She tongue-kisses herself in the mirror whenever we put

Reviews. The Phantom Tollbooth, by Norton Juster; Orthodoxy, by G.K. Chesterton, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, by J.K. Rowling. The Phantom Tollbooth. I was first introduced to Norton Juster by my younger brother, Andy, who, when faced with the task of finding me a birthday present a couple of years ago, wandered

Life is Good. You know life is good when your roommate’s psycho minipoodle bites you on the hand, causing multiple puncture wounds and a loose flap of skin, but the dog’s just a big softie, really, when it bit the roomie’s sister, she didn’t get rabies, after all, and you have to go to the