Once upon a time, I traded bonds and helped pirates loot and plunder on on Wall Street.  I had grown-up clothes, shiny shoes, and a serious expression.  Before that, I worked at various pointless things--- as a cab driver, a house painter, a cook, a bartender, a chimney maker, a tour director, a casino floorman, a refugee resettlement officer, a reporter, a political lackey, a security guard, a hotel clerk, a logger or more specifically a choke-setter, an editor, an historical researcher, a caterer, or, often enough, simply unemployed.

I grew up in Michigan, Illinois, Mexico, and New York.  I slipped into Columbia on a clerical error, dropped out, went back, dropped out again, and finally finished, sort-of.  I went through a number of mostly imaginary careers before it became clear I hadn't a clue.  So I went West, because it's what you do when you don't know what to do.  I lived for brief spells in New Mexico, Idaho, California, and Alaska, and, of course, the highway.  I came close to making a lifelong habit of walking away from things...  Logged 90 million miles of interstate hitch-hiking because I was too dumb to find a decent car and keep it running.  Finally settled back in New York, where everyone must end up, sooner or later, and spent long days and nights on the stoop at 61 East 3rd Street, a good place to be when you're broke and have nothing to do.

When not doing whatever passes for work, I play Go, I walk, I manicure the forest, I make trails, I read good books, I fly hanggliders and little Cessnas, I cook, I sing badly with great spirit, I direct plays, I write plays, I drink beer.  Visit Red Barn PT--my wife's physical therapy clinic.  And while you're out browsing, you might take a look at carbide.com, the world's premier tooling website, and Deneenstreet.com, which is were you can peruse some of my more recent website projects.