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Mind of The Wandering Monk

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#0017 – Fan Mail

When I reach out wide, spouting my truth from mountaintops and riversides, it is all done with the hope that you'll hear the call and shout back. Like TJ Moss did in this episode: Read the full story on RandomNerds.com


#0016 – Trash Can Blues

I'm back, and I've missed you. So much has happened in the space between now and the last episode, I added an explanation, as well as a bit of insight, a poem about driving fast at night, and the sounds from a jam session with a family band. Read the full story on RandomNerds.com


#0015 – The State of My Union

Today's media overruns us with blasts of negativity; the separateness of all things is what sells in our fear-based culture. For that reason, and in response to the recent State of the Union speech by our atrocious, horrible, detestable president, I offer you this lighter take on the world at large — by presenting the state of my union. Read the full story on RandomNerds.com


#0014 – North Country Ramble (Big Bang in Reverse)

December ends with a bang and January enters with low light, emitting a hollow hum that reverberates through the cold stillness. By the time I get out of bed, dress in socks, shirt, and pants, I'm nearly spent. It's a time of hibernation in the North Country, which is the reason why these rambles took so long to reach your waiting ears. Read the full story on RandomNerds.com


#0013 – A Mammoth Task

For some, Christmas is a chance to spend money they don’t have in order to buy presents no one needs for people they’d rather not spend their precious vacation days seeing. For yours truly, it’s a time to cut out of work early, park inside my tiny Main Street apartment, crank the electric baseboard heaters, and do nothing at all. Read the full story on RandomNerds.com


#0012 – Return to Self

Every year, when fall arrives, I mirror the arresting change from long, bright days into deep, black nights. Existing on the edge of disappearance with my two dollar marble notebook, I find places beyond me that fit the way I think. Park benches take the place of friends. Beaches blanketed by blustery wind, speckled with only a handful of distant silhouettes, become the main boulevard. Somehow, in an all-too-busy life, there’s an abundance of time uncovered; each step forward holding a...


#0011 – Best Friends and Petty Theft

When you’ve known someone for 20 years, there are no limits to what you feel comfortable saying to them. And while Ted and I have had (and continue to have) our issues, our love is like the fat that rises to the top of the soup; but like a heart soup, with insults and acceptance instead of beef and vegetables. Read the full story on RandomNerds.com


#0010 – Pure, Perfect Summer Love

Maybe it’s rushing it to start planning a wedding, but we’ve already decided we both want a big table for company and she’s cool with the fact that I lay eggs. Sure, we moved quick, though tell me one time when pure, perfect Summer Love knocked gently at the door stead of rushing straight in: Read the full story on RandomNerds.com


#0009 – Living the Poem

Lately, I’ve been living the poem instead of writing it. Staying out late, dancing under middle-of-nowhere stars, happening upon strangers, or letting them happen to me. For fall is coming, and perhaps the words on pages with it, but summer is for binging on experience then purging the stories she tells. Read the full story on RandomNerds.com


#0008 – Something Decidedly Beautiful

It was a weekend off when, after dinner, I decided to head to the docks and the beach, one before the other, pen and two-dollar marble notebook in hand, to scribble out something decidedly beautiful. By the side of children playing and boat whistles blowing, I committed to the act of writing something and calling it poetry. Though narrative and long-winded, the meat of it had cadence; a rhythm. I used to be a drummer, now the kick boom affects my everything. A friend of mine asked the...


#0007 – Bread and Puppet

The day began with blueberry pancakes, with good friends. Then off we were, riding in an old Volkswagen van, to an iconic Vermont Sunday tradition: a performance by The Bread and Puppet Theater. There, frog men and jugglers strolled about the grass. Singers sang in different languages. It rained, but the performance continued. Tubas played. Drums were slapped. Rants were ranted and dancers danced (I think I fell in love with the bongo player wearing the lip ring and black sunglasses, but...


#0006 – Equinox

Unlike some of the previous episodes of this podcast, this one has little to do with me. It’s simply a story I stumbled upon that I felt was important to share... A couple of weeks ago, I got an email from a German hiker named Nicola Seitz who was looking for a place to stay for her last night in Vermont. As a longtime couch surfer myself, I told her I was happy to host, so one day after work, just as it began to rain, I drove down a winding mountain road toward the trail head where she...


#0005 – A Secret Space

I’m tired, spent, unkempt, and cold. The rain is falling and inside I feel a drought. In this offering I take a deep, unstable expression, a confession of sorts, and leave my soul freely for you to interpret. I speak openly about my bouts with depression and mental illness, explaining how it is I survive my own ride of life. This narrative summarizes a span of recent difficult moments over the past few weeks, from the depth of dark, naked nights, to the hope of windswept sunsets found by...


#0004 – An Accidental Band

Because this podcast is as boundless as the wind, I took us in a different direction with this episode. Then again, maybe the direction's not so different after all, as I'm not sure I have one — or will find one anytime soon. We're extra lucky on this episode since the voice of my friend Abbey, which is far more beautiful than any of my guttural rumbles, sings a few songs. And, since I know you love him, Mike the Guitar takes the stage as well. In fact, I think we were a band that night....


#0003 – The Universe, Drugs and Motherhood

We stand in the rain on the front porch, with cars splash-passing in the dark road. My neighbor, Anthony, drinking a hard cider, doesn't blink when I ask if he’d be willing to share the poem he's reading with all of you folks at home. Then we play music. He, the woman he loves, and I. He strums six strings, she runs fingers along the black and white keys, and I snap a beat with taps and slaps. Their voices, together, bounce through melodies, as they look at one another with a tenderness...


#0002 – Paris, Poetry, and Protest Featuring Louisa Drury

On a sunny Sunday afternoon, I sat down with poet, teacher, and friend Louisa Drury at her kitchen table in the small town of Stowe, Vermont, where she was kind enough to share a bit about her time in Paris during a period I — and so many artists I know — have lived in romantic envy of for our entire lives. Gifting us a reading of some of her work, Louisa is a living reminder that art itself is a form of protest. Read the full story on RandomNerds.com Photo by: Bronwyn Fryer


#0001 – Prologue Feat. Mike The Guitar

From a spring sunset we begin by stretching back through the past winter to what brought us here… We start with a poem called “Sounds of Home,” then head to Ireland — once for adventure, and again for love — before ending up back home in the mountains of Vermont: We’re also lucky enough to have our musical guest, Mike the Guitar, take us for a ride on a Greyhound bus bound for Reno, followed by a trip to Portland for a date at the homeless shelter. Read the full story on RandomNerds.com...