I have always loved the novel. As a fisherman, everyone knows "A River Runs Through It" is a great book. I invite the readers of America to check out two other great novels on fly fishing and trout fishing.

This novel was famous in the 70's and among the San Francisco scene, but many haven't heard of it, and that is a shame. Read it.

This book celebrated its 20th anniversary and is a great combination of philosophy and fishing. I invite the reader in the know, one who likes to think, to check this book out. It is a hidden gem.

3 Years of blogging

I have had this website for 3 years now. 2 of those years were wasted because I had to get another college degree. It's time to get back in the groove of writing, submitting, editing, and posting stuff for my avid fans (I have 9 followers). So here is to the remainder of 2013. My goal is to at least have one meaningful post per month.

Thoughts on Dark and Light:

Night, a far cry from daylight thoughts, descends an hour earlier. Like an enervated prayer where the ceiling of the room blocks the pleading from reaching heaven, from becoming revelation. In a sunny room, the same prayer as if from a desert sky would reach the heavens without impediment. This is what one is up against when daylight savings occurs. Books of alchemy say that darkness existed before the light. I find this supposition hard to believe. If matter, or the matter within ourselves is eternal, and created or animated by light, we must have always existed as light, for nothing is created, only formed. Darkness exists only as a place where the light has yet to penetrate. If I am to believe in darkness first and light second, I persist that Satan existed before Christ, and Christ disrupts or disturbs the cosmic congruency of eternity. If light did not always exist then darkness holds the keys to eternal mystery and light is but a poor newborn lock on the mystic door to the unknown. For some reason, this thought seems to throw my mind into a tossing sea and sets me off-balance. 

Robert Fludd, Utriusque Cosmi, 1617-1621.

No Quarter

This is a short story that didn't get published at the two places I submitted it




No Quarter

But it wasn’t them. It was You.

Yes, I did it, and for the act I take partial responsibility. It could have been any of us.

But it wasn’t any of you. It was You. You alone are responsible.

I understand. I understand, but something you aren’t considering is if it hadn’t been me, it would have been another. Quite a significant fact if you really take it into account. I won’t allow anymore of this finger pointing, this blaming, this incessant child-like chiding. Aren’t you my wife? Doesn’t the ring around your finger signify better or for worse? Though this might be a ‘for worse’ scenario, you should be on my side when the levee breaks.

After the fact, my being absent, washing the children’s clothes at the river when all this took place, might warrant my taking sides, but there are no sides to take. One either does something or doesn’t do something, and you did something, and that something makes you guilty.

So you side with the sympathizers. You will send me to the dogs and not even stand by my side.

That word again—side. I am not on any side. And I would never leave you. I would never even hold this conversation outside of these walls, but I will not like the stares implicating you, through me, of guilt, next day I go to the market or when I walk the children to school.



So this is humanity? Others, present others, I should add, brothers in guilt can just go home after the incident and wash their hands and pronounce themselves clean. If a man judges you or I, it is because his own guilty conscience wishes to rid itself of the burden of guilt all present should feel. They use me as a scapegoat.