A zooma, zoom, zoom

Is there a company in the UK doing what Kinsa is doing in the U.S.? I read this on Dave Winer’s blog. What a great idea, a network of thermometers. Can they spot outbreaks of Coronavirus? You can read about it in the NYT.

We’ve been here before. Read about how NYC survived the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic. We will get through this. It’s a question time and people doing their part to help stop the spread of the Coronavirus. And here’s a history of pandemics.

Get some vitamin D in you, either from the sun or supplements.

Apps like Zoom are really coming into their own during this pandemic. I spent most of my day working through the medium of Zoom. It’s good for meetings, webinars, and training. I’ve been an advocate of online learning via the virtual classroom environment for years. Glad to be able to do more of it now (although the catalyst for the increased interest isn’t the best).


head down and hippies

Not much to report today, apart from the UK going further into lockdown. I did have I am Legend moment today. I was the only one home for most of the day and with the streets being empty in my town, I felt like I was the last human.

I mostly had my head down trying to meet a deadline for a client. I owed them a Guide On Managing a Remote Team. I finished the PDF version. Next, I have to convert that into an online microlearning course.

I had fun adding some more images to my Hippie Lifestyle and Beat Generation Pinterest boards.

I like the aesthetic of the Beat Generation. Oh, and I love me some hippie chicks.

I hope you all are washing your hands, practicing social distancing, and keeping yourselves safe!



tangled world

The world is in a tangle indeed. When I walked into town this afternoon, it felt like I was in a post-apocalyptic movie. So few people. Empty shelves. People avoiding people. This is one of those events that feels surrealistic while you’re in it. History will shine a different light on it.

I’m officially working from home now. Too many cavalier people out there not caring how their bad habits in these times might affect their fellow human. Some of the practices I witnessed today, made me want to retreat to a bunker and not resurface until the coronavirus pandemic has passed.

While you might not care about your own health and safety, think about the harm you might potentially do to others. In short, don’t be a dick!



The world upside down and on fire

Things continue to intensify here in the UK as Boris Johnson outlined the government’s recommended course for its citizens. Social distancing is highly encouraged to include working from home where possible, no non-essential travel, no pubs, and clubs, or restaurants.

I found myself musing about living through a crisis of this magnitude and how surrealistic it all seems as you realise how vulnerable the human being is. This virus is more deadly than most people give it credit.

I found this episode of The Daily to be particularly interesting. If you want to get some good tips on living with the coronavirus, this is the one to listen to.

My biggest worry in all of this is not the virus, but the economic fallout from the drastic measures we’re all having to take to get through this.

This meme has been floating around recently. Basically it’s a welcome to 2020 meme. Look at all the junk that’s happened in the 1st 3 months of this year:

I think I’ll spend one more day out before I retreat into my cave for a while, try and ride some of this Covid-19 nastiness out.




I don’t even remember why I went on to YouTube this morning, but I ended up cycling through clips from Seinfeld, which arguably for me, is the greatest sitcom ever. I’ve watched every episode at least a dozen times, easily more, and I never get tired of them, and I never fail to laugh out loud at the most iconic bits like ‘Yada, yada, yada.

Yada, yada, yada…

Later during the day, I played Russian Roulette with my Kindle. I wasn’t quite sure what I was in the mood to read so I thought I’d let fate decide. She chose a book of essays by Ursula Le Guin called Words Are My Matter. I read the first few essays. The Operating Instructions was my favorite. I should say, it’s less of an essay and more of a polished version of a talk she gave to the Oregon Literary Arts about the importance of the imagination.

I think the imagination is the single most useful tool mankind possesses. It beats the opposable thumb. I can imagine living without my thumbs, but not without my imagination

Ursula Le Guin

Such is the primacy of imagination.

Al of us have to learn how to invent our lives, make them up, imagine them. We need to be taught these skills; we need guides to show us how. Without them, our lives get made up for us by other people.

Lots of gems in this essay like:

Listening is an act of community; reading is a means of listening.

The imagination is a big deal. It’s super powerful and something that needs plenty of exercise whether that’s active imagination as Jung suggests we use it or mythic imagination as Stephen Larsen suggests.

Time to shift gears and start thinking about the upcoming week.


it’s been a while

Inspired by this video (how to be a writing god) this morning, I decided to take Beth Dunn’s advice and get better at writing by writing every day. And as she explains in the video, to use a different metric for measuring my progress, which in this case is to hit the ‘publish’ button every day, regardless of how many words I’ve written, be it one word or a thousand words.

I felt this domain would be the best place to resurrect my online journaling since it’s one of my oldest online spaces.

With all of this coronavirus business going on, I decided to hang loose at home this weekend. I spent most of today alternating between reading and watching TV.

I managed to finish off The Hyperdoc Handbook: Digital Lesson Design Using Google Apps, by the trio, Lisa Highfill, Kelly Hilton, and Sarah Landis. I’m pretty excited by the prospect of moving toward delivering most of my work online, both my corporate work and my private client work.

I also finished off The One Punch Man a tremendously awesome piece of anime.


Ha! Do you feel like you’ve just stepped through time vortex?

I putting on ice for now, while I concentrate on building the blog up over at which is now my main blogging platform.


Mom’s Amusement

imagine the slow-released madness placed under the tongue

my friend and I have a bet that his face is too tight under his skin, a pale ghost milked by his masters to prolong life in the dark place

where it’s too hard to see tomorrow,

by now she could see the decades of self-sacrifice, a mind-at-large in hyperspace. She was long gone by now though.

Me – just another caged animal let out for mom’s amusement.

Blog Poetry

broken sun

a drop of blood in the stars
divides the blue against the broken sun,
the fiery light passes from hand to hand,
gnawing on our bones in a corner of heaven


in the fields gathering thoughts

Sharing thoughts on why i take these evening walks.


Be – don’t try to become…


some beach scratchings

This past weekend, we packed up the Outlander and headed northeast to King’s Lynn for a little camping excursion. The first one of the season. I know it’s late, but heck with the earlier weather not being the best and then vacation time in Fuerteventura, well the days and weeks fly by and before you know it’s mid-July before you’re pitching tent for the first time in 2018. Looks like we caught the last of the dry, hot weather too, so good deal all around.

King’s Lynn is a seaport and market town in Norfolk, England. At 102 miles, it’s the nearest beach to us (actually the beach we went to was about 30 miles north of our campsite in Hunstanton. It was fabulous grabbing so much fresh air over the weekend, and two nights of open fire – bonus!


On the beach, I crafted these two poems:


instead of profit,
music is the bottom line

dance floor constructed


experience to create
a language of desire

the break from real
sold to us through

the environment
where physical connection
seemingly encouraged
emotional engagement




the composition of style

sexual energy
makes less than
what it seems

body becomes object
the desire within,
a chance to touch
the forbidden

day breaks
the magic ends

keeps coming back
keeps pouring in

gay or straight flyers
advertising the event
energy, sex, or otherwise

the composition of
the style of

the streets of New York City

I got in line came
face to face with attractive
young women bundled against
the cold in stylish pleasant
conversation, sensually dressed
heroin-chic, collecting £15 for
privileged entry.

I entered the chapel
headed for the bar
too early for the truth

at the bar, I found
the congregation
of the beautiful

truth from beauty


Blog Poetry


can be yourself
don’t bottle up the body,

keep it open.

when all self-identifications remain
get rid of


no self-definition, i am
energy and bring nothing
reality here, can i

demand nothing when you
want nothing, seek nothing
expect nothing


a man engrossed
prescribed by his scriptures
will get wrapped up in them

so many saints
words may be true
independent of ripening time

stay open and quiet
you seek no place
know that

don’t burden yourself
names seeking ends
desire for truth, this is
your profit

seeking at

Blog Prose Poem Sketches

shaking his shake like

I finally finished Jack Kerouac’s Book of Sketches. The story goes that in 1951, Jack’s friend Ed White encouraged him to do like painters do and make sketches in the street but with words instead of paint. And so Kerouac did. He began writing down prose poem “sketches” in the small notebooks he kept in his shirt pocket. For two years he recorded his travels, observations, and meditations on art and life as he roamed around America and Mexico. The Book of Sketches is a compilation of all his sketch notebooks.

I really enjoyed this book. It’s like a prose poem version of Robert Frank’s The Americans. The book left me inspired to do the same, to create little prose poem sketches of my day. Since I mentioned Robert Frank, I thought I also might go back to doing Hipstomatic snapshots throughout the day and add those with the prose poem sketches.

Alright, here goes the first one… (oh and I might as well add a modern twist and add make the prose poem sketches hypertext prose poems sketches…how about that?!

girl – bun in her hair
bouncy breasts little tan
backpack – watching
her from a stain-glassed window
lifting heavy weights on the bench today
outside playing on my bluetooth headset

the parking ticket attendant
walks like John Wayne
how did he get this job
bullying people he can’t see
just another filthy agent of the state –
massive control

Punching the weight up to 130kg
it’s not what a body looks like
it’s what a body can do that counts.

all american nightmare
making those good girls bad

Short dude in the locker room
shaking his shake like he shakes
his thing…way too long

people are broken,
what’s the point of
trying to fix them

focus on doing my thing
like frank santra, not the cake
version but this

that’s it
i go into the evening, fresh

Oh and this puppy arrived today from the States:

Blog Poetry

god be sitting on a fence

god be sitting on a fence

up the road i saw him peering
at the traffic passing by then he

wandered over to the tobacco shop
said something to the barelegged
boy leaning on the countertop

adjusted his spandex shorts and left

Blog Wisdom Bombs


Blog Poetry

no glory

so i lay there
playing with splinters
in the late red afternoon

the angels of paradise
hidden in the mystery
of my days leaning
on warm wings sang to me

sticks lie broken
dead leaves gather dust
i am homesick here
in the ashes

all i wanted was
glory found only
strange sadness instead


night’s leaves

on a pristine
october afternoon
i applied for a job
begging at the ports

all for the sake
of feeling my way
against the ghost
of your truth

my lies limed
and loaded flowed
easy riding the night’s
last flicker of hope

i was young
i tried to capture
you with rhymes
and exotic suggestions

touching myself
pretending to be
a poet of all things

you were a tourist
picking through
the constellations
looking for something
behind my falling words

you found nothing but
a boy from jazz highway
rustling night’s leaves

Art Art in public places

looking for the human condition?



on the radio
the buzzing world

blowers moan
the clack of
balls clicking

so well straining

a high thin monkey
woman begging for