Mind of The Wandering Monk
#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 a 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 Puppets
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...