Hemoglobin, non-terrorism, and adorable despite a little racism; in Panama City.

I was a happy little red blood cell. Biding my time before entering the veins of Venezuela, I was promenading through the pulse of Panama, crossing arterial roadways to meander beside the lymphatic… Continue reading

To speak, or not to speak?

The young woman was determined to be heard. She had the sort of volume that can only be achieved through a combination of theater training, ample quantities of alcohol in the recent past,… Continue reading

Lumps of love, transmitted by wire.

My headphones endorsed the errand by playing the perfect cycling songs as I pedaled downtown to the bank, Toots Thielemans’ “Bossa Nova” (player below) gliding right on into Johnny Cash’s “Hey Porter”. We… Continue reading

Why bother blogging?

I’m supposed to be writing a blog right now. Instead, I’m pretending to type while observing the hunched man across the communal table, who looks like Lewis Black fallen on hard times. His… Continue reading

Ample? Fat? Or something more creative?

“What about this one? How does it look?” His girlfriend considered for a moment, head tilted to the side and lips pursed just a little. “I like it, the color is good on… Continue reading

A home for Alvaro

“My daughter is a musician,” were Alvaro’s proud words as we shared a taxi into Caracas. He was the program coordinator for the Witness for Peace delegation that I had come to Venezuela… Continue reading

An unexpected chance to get killed in Mandalay

Originally posted on Vagabond Urges:
My ride to the bus station in Mandalay, Myanmar, showed up 45 minutes late, unhurried and calm, and led me out front to our ride. One of the…

Folsom Street Fair; or, leashes, lashes, and laughter

It was a perfect Sunday afternoon, all things considered. Soft, warm air that eased around, but that fell far short of windy; and no rain, but solid overcast. Those clouds in particular were… Continue reading

My San Francisco Giants

I couldn’t remember the last time I went to a Giants game, but we definitely had a different president. That ain’t good, for a kid raised on Will Clark, Robbie Thompson, and (my… Continue reading

A tangible reason to care about the future. In San Diego.

San Diego is paisley from above. Curls and loops and whorls of housing developments; conceived at desks, proposed in meetings, and built by contract. All those lives, churning away down there, unknowable, each… Continue reading