Last Night’s Sunset

I call this one "Celestial Impressions." From March 20.

And this one from last night I call "Angel Breath."

And this one I call "A-to-the-k-to-the-47" or "Dear

And last but not least, I call this one, "Oh, Delicate and Gossamer Sky" or "Will my Goddamned Neighbor Across the Street Ever Play Anything Besides Dire Straits When He's Working in His Garage, and What Exactly is He Doing in His Garage All Day and All Night Anyway?"

A special note to my mother: Happy Birthday, or whatever.

A special note to everyone: Click here to read my debut  contribution to, a blog for people who think books are worthwhile. I’ll be posting stuff there a few times a month, which at this point is more often than I post on my own blog. Or whatever.


  1. He’s probably growing (and smoking ) pot that he won’t sell you. Go over there with a plate of home made cookies (he’s got the munchies) and while he’s chowing down, slip in a cd of a band that YOU like.

  2. HUH!!! Now you and Moriah are both in the dog house (and that is bad for Moriah especially since she’ll have to squeeze in with those two overgrown ponies she thinks are dogs)….Mom never sleeps and is always watching (with the best of the stalkers! And to think I just posted your bksh blog on my Facebook (an unprecedented move on my part since I still can’t seem to find my homepage when I need to…but that’s another matter. I had a very happy birthday, thank you, in spite of the fact that you refused to attend my party. What’s a Mom to do?

  3. By the way, Vicky’s advise sounded very wise. I think you just need a good oat meal cookie recipe to aid in the endeavor. (is it endeavour in NZ?)

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