My Father’s Eyes

This camping trip along the East coast of Canada was for my Dad’s 60th birthday. This fellow here is also having his 60th birthday. We stopped at this local market to use the bathroom and find out how much smoked salmon by the pound costs, because my Father was living off that shit cause he’s kosher and can’t eat un-kosher meat or un-kosher chicken plus he happens to love that shit, and we happened to notice this enormous beast of a lobster, which my brother can eat cause there’s nothing he doesn’t. We didn’t buy the lobster. He went back to his ‘life-with-many-roommates.’ But I thought I saw (for a split second anyway) my Father and this lobster make eye contact. Continue reading My Father’s Eyes


We had a smorgasbord of a picnic in this beautiful coastal town (Rimouski). Salmon, onions, tomatoes, english cucumbers, dried fish, olives, fresh baked bread, red wine, and Quebec cheddar. The sun was extremely hot while we watched the women, who sold us the dried fish and smoked salmon, try and sell yet another tourist a discarded styrofoam cooler for five bucks. I stepped in dog shit and used a plastic fork to scrape off what I could before getting back into the car.


Jared and I took a bike ride in the very early morning during our stay in the Riviere-du-Loup area. The bike rental was free from our hotel. There was a spider on my brothers bike. We went down hills with old houses and bed and breakfasts’ and mailboxes without a care in the world. The people really take care of their homes and gardens. The hotel, however, could have taken more care of their bikes because on the last stretch of our return home I attempted a wheelie and nearly pulled off my front handlebar.


This was at a National Park, I forget which, but we stayed in a Yourte and ate Wild Salmon with haricot vert, carrots, onions cooked on an outdoor fire. The results were superb. My brother is a fantastic chef, also it didn’t hurt that we (not Dad) got smashing drunk on red wine and scotch. I must have smoked a 1000 cigarettes on this trip.

Muddy Waters

I have officially inducted myself into the improv geek hall of fame. At a marvelous coffee shop in Burlington on Main Street, I scrawled on the bathroom wall…

When in doubt, “Yes, and…” that shit.

Del Close

I am aware people are going to read that and think Del Close said that in his life but I only realized that later in my hotel room. I initially wrote only the sentence. Had more coffee. Thought people wouldn’t understand it or even know where to look for an explanation. Then wrote Del Close underneath so people would at least have a reference point, that would explain the idea of being in a scene, or in life and being in doubt and not only going along with it but adding to it. Point is I geeked out and am excited about my improv class beginning in two days and the name of the coffee shop is Muddy Waters.

What do you think about while you’re swimming?

Cold. You’d think they’d be able to do something to heat the pool. Better stretch. Stretching in a Speedo. Beautiful. My stroke. Elongate the hands. Stretch the arm. Tilt the body like you’re on a skewer. Jackass in the Fast Lane. Can’t slow down. Not aware of swimming etiquette. Give his leg a tug.
People are nice in the water. On boats. Everyone says hi. It’s our roots. Much of the world covered. Nice pair of legs. Look better in water. Looking at girls in the water is like looking at girls when you’re intoxicated. I hum. Can anyone hear. I swim three times a week. My body would be a lot better if I didn’t eat so many cookies. Elongate the hands. Stretch the hand. Tilt your body like-I’m not eating at all next week.