Like .. a never-ending one.
Way back, pre-magic days. I was working my last job, at Heritage resort. I was asked to accompany my boss on a walk through the property. We chatted and walked, then sat beside a lake in a really green place. We were building a lighthouse stage there …
He complimented me on the work I was doing (writing scripts and executing them via live acting and puppets) and praised my efforts as an employee, husband, father, and human. You know that meme where it says that giving me compliments is like trying to put a wrinkled dollar into a vending machine? Yeah .. was then, still is true now.
And then he said something that still echoes in my head: “You have a really great way of reaching people, showing them your heart and loving them, that’s a real gift, but I never see you take much joy in yourself. Where is your happiness?”

Later in my story (couple of decades later) in the midst of an argument my wife accused me of being chronically miserable. She told me I could be happy if I could just act like I used to … find the ‘real me’ that I used to be. “You’ll be happy when you decide to be.”
My friend Andrea reminds me that I still create art for others and … it’s amazing and I’m really good at it. I’m dedicated and I care. All of these things are true.
Yet … I sink into a hole when I walk off stage. I give everything I have and I empty myself. I will get very still and quiet. On the best nights, after the best shows, and almost every single time I’m driving home from the Castle, I weep uncontrollably.
I’ve looked, I’ve meditated, I’ve quested for happiness through several therapists. I’m still sitting here with all this weight pressing down on my shoulders and i still have not recognized joy in myself.
Chronically miserable, though you’d not really know it unless I told you. Unless I foolishly laid out all the words about how painful life is. The persistent loneliness and certainty that I am unworthy. Not capable.

There is art to be made and art can be a forge that turns my grief into sunshine for someone else. So I’ll do the shows with all my might, all my heart.

Even when my heart is just a tiny, bitter, green pill.

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Mother …

Let nothing in my hand be a weapon.

Neither gun, wand, nor pen.

If my fingers should fist, please break them.

Should I be tempted to raise my hands in anger, quickly remind me that you did not give me hands for that purpose.

Violence is not the war i wage.

The  hand … the hand is one of the most incredible instruments in the  universe. Of all the bones in the body, one-fourth are in the hand. The  balletic interplay of sinew and bone that is the human hand cannot be  overstated, though it always seems to be thirsting to make a fist. Our  greatest moment of humanity is when we open (un-fist) our hand to extend  it in love … cradle a glass of wine … cup the chin or cheek of a  loved one.

Even more … let nothing in my mouth be a weapon.

Not teeth, spit, or word.

Let my words be sweet … or savory. Never bitter, for I may have to eat them.

Turn my heart from hatred, and let love be the seeds i sow.

Fear is not the war I wage.

If I am to be known for anything in this world, let it be

“He left love where he went.”

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Libraries, archives, and museums all find themselves at the intersection of materiality and the mystical. Perhaps this is why we’re so quiet when we enter them.” ~ Jenn Shapland,

Someday I dream we’ll visit these holy places together.

Or perhaps 

We’ll make a Holy Place of Our very own, someday.

A place without any fear.
A place where i will gather all the things I have written to You

Gather them close and read them aloud to You

So You can hear the love in my chest 

Among the hitches in my speech 

and the small gasps of affection


and I will dream of it until then.

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Other Art

I baked a cake today, from scratch. And the first time in a very long time …

I created an orange bundt cake. It came out a wee bit heavier than I would have liked, but other than that it was perfect.

It made me happy in a way that I cannot explain. I prepared, I planned, I executed, and I cleaned up after … And I made a new thing.

It’s a very odd feeling, what I’m feeling right now. Like something is about to move in a very big way. I will do my best to explain how I feel.

I’m going to wait and do that tomorrow. Tonight, I really need good rest.
I hope there is love where you are.

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Musing in Nashville

I’m broke, but no longer broken. I’m weaving the scars into tapestry. Art heals.

Nashville appeals to me in ways I didn’t expect; there is art and music everywhere. From new architecture to old country. The city has embraced the art that I brought to it and seems to genuinely like me. Granted I’ve only been here for six days, but after the initial fiasco with TSA in Los Angeles, it’s been a really incredible and Uplifting week.

Because you asked …
I stopped posting pictures with the hex fastener because I found out that the gift it was based on was an utter lie. I believed in it and I had faith in it for a very long time, (and I have deep regret) but I can no longer display it because I discovered its falsehood. Many people have asked, and that’s your answer. I was used, I was lied to, and I put it behind me.

It still nips at my heels, but I refuse to let it control me anymore.

I’ve decided it’s time to wake up. Admittedly I’ve been coasting for quite a while, but it’s time to seriously take the reins to walk my path as true as I possibly can. More proactive in my heart, my art, and in my life.

As a reminder, I do what I do for the beauty of it. For the satisfaction that it gives my heart. Not for contests, not for accolades, not for anyone else but myself and the giver of the gift. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful that what I do pleases people. I hope that it inspires them to chase their own curiosity. That’s how things change for the good, right?

This journey has been enlightening and amazing. The VisionQuest I didn’t expect, nor plan. I’ve gotten a little closer to my own truth, and that makes my heart very happy.

I hope there’s love where you are

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An Apology

Who hurt you?

I know you were at the end of a long shift. I was taking the red-eye and my gate had changed three times and the plane was delayed twice and the people I was in line with were gruff and frustrated. For some reason you singled me out. Do I remind you of someone who was rude to you? A former friend? Someone who hurt you with words?

Who hurt you that you decided I should pay for it? Now … I don’t take it personally. You didn’t pat me down or even make eye contact during the twenty minutes we spent together. You unfolded all my clothes, opened every deck of cards, examined all the coins and various other props I was traveling with. Went through each pocket. You pulled cards out and flipped through them, spread them on your table seeking … something. You declared that the cards were ‘suspicious’ and told me I’d have to leave them or check the bag. Given that I had just a few minutes to get to my gate, mostly because of time I spent with you, I let you take them. Fifteen decks. Ten of them my favorite green monarchs … which run about ten bucks a pack. You left me with literally no recourse.

When you finished, you crammed all my things haphazardly into the suitcase and then broke the zipper trying to close it. Shrugging and smirking, you walked away. “I’ll let you take care of that” you said over your shoulder as you left.

Dismayed, I talked to your supervisor, who promised to look at the video, but wouldn’t take my name or any other information. One of your coworkers sheepishly wrapped my suitcase in packing tape to hold it closed.

Whoever hurt you and however they did it, I’m sorry. No one should be made to feel that bitter, because inevitably it gets passed down to someone else. I’m going to let it end with me, though. I’m putting these words out … not in anger or in frustration (those feels came and went) but as a caution. It’s so easy to pass hurt along, so breathe and maybe … don’t. Next time.

And … who hurt you? The nice lady who came up the aisle smiling until you saw you would be seated next to me. I was in my aisle seat and there was a lady in the window seat. None of me was spilling into your middle seat. I had the armrest comfortably down. Yet … you refused to sit next to me. Demonstrably. You summoned a flight attendant and demanded to be reseated “because just look at him!”. She declined. You made a scene. They found you a place, and I enjoyed an empty seat beside me for the flight. (Thanks?)

Am I so hideous? Was I scowling because of the earlier incident? Did I remind you of someone unpleasant?

Whatever it was … I’m sorry you were feeling that way. I hope your flight was better, wherever they put you.

I’ve purged my negative feelings over these incidents … hopefully today will rise above.


If you’d like to support this journey, please visit


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What’s Coming Up

Largely due to professional help and long, honest conversations with Sarah about art … I’m going to be more productive on the other arts I offer.

Blog, Podcasts, Video diaries, and more. Much more publicly.

Exercising creativity begets more creativity. I’m striving for excellence, and opening the sluice is the way to do it. It won’t all be silver, but it should be interesting. I hope you’ll watch what happens.

The Podcasts:  The ongoing saga and viewpoints of an artist. Poetry and ASMR for relaxing bedtime listening.

Video Diary and Select Magic Moments:

To support these offerings …
Venmo: @magicartist

Yes, there are perks for being a Patron, but they are largely based on simple support. There will be exclusives, and some early gifts … but supporting the art is the focus. My humble thanks in advance.

I didn’t come this far to only come this far.
I’m glad you’re here.
I hope that there’s love where you are.


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