The personal portal
Yo. Welcome to this rabbit hole and I apologize if it's not all hung together in some sort of cognizant fashion. This is my personal garden shed where I throw all my bits and pieces that don't really fit in the house but I want to keep for later. Whatever later is. Perhaps for when I'm gone and some inquisitive minds are looking for some relevant "stuff" to make sense of why the hell I may have been here. Maybe you found a book I wrote or a song I recorded. I don't care. It's not for you. It's just my garden shed. I was sitting in at a gig in New York the other night and a friend of mine took that picture. I had no idea how to play that song and I was about 7 martinis in but I thought I looked fabulously on top of it so I used the photo here.
I am a compulsive writer. Some say prolific but that's the noble term for the disfunction. On the rare occasion that I have absolutely nothing that is immediately threatening my existence, like a deadline, a meteorite, or a catastrophic weather anomaly, I'll just log in to the garden shed and let the fingers fly for a spell. The really big question is, what are you doing here? There is surely something better to be doing. Maybe go read one of my books. Those are curated by adults. But now you have suffered through my waffling stroll thus far, I might as well riff a little in the hope of amusing myself. I mean you.
In those unbearable moments when people at parties ask me what I do, I respond with the indisputable but somewhat controversial vocation of "polymath." I tried some other vocations: Florist, elephant farrier, hitman, but, aside from amusing myself for that moment, nothing really fit because the awful truth is that I am that unspeakable outlier that does whatever they want. Or, more accurately, what they feel compelled to do. Write, invent, program, design, dream, build, perform, produce, conceive, innovate, manifest... The true inner-life of the introverted extroverted introvert. I'm a polymath. I haven't reached any Da Vinci standards as yet. Then again, I'm not dead. For the minute. So I'll keep having a crack at it. Wander about if you dare.