"Is there really a Molly?"
"Ask Molly."

I am by trade a social worker by political inclination a lefty, by necessity a greenie.

I worship Gary Snyder,love John Steinbeck, dote over E.O. Wilson and Stephen J. Gould. OK,I did dote over S.J.G..

I write about the connections between people and their environment.

I am a Canadian, but I never say eh. I do put my periods inside the quotation marks,put a u in 'or' words though

A proud Canadian? No,just a Canadian, bred, born and raised on the Great Plains. Well; you know what they say about patriotism being the last bastion....

Yes I know I dangled a preposition up above but even Canadians like to be informal on occasion.

As for writing, It's too important to take seriously.

As for God, I think she has a very warped sense of humour. There's that u again.

As for George Bush the younger, I think him a lunatic.

All of that and a couple of bucks will get you a cup of coffee.

I am looking for a writing partner, one that has some moxie, a twisted sense of humour, and a dedication to the craft.

Enter woody wood pecker, up with lonney tunes theme

Dick Easton.

My passion is ...

passion

I know too much about ...

the freckle on Molly's bum

My parents always told me ...

stay away from Molly

My childhood ambition ...

find the freckle

My favorite memory ...

Molly's bum

Why I write ...

why not

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

environment

My first job ...

construction labourer

My best moment ...

Guess

My inspiration ...

You mean besides Molly?

Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: Self-reflection

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Chuck Wagon

Whenever I think of Uncle Pete, I think of that sculpture. Two horses and a chuck wagon, its sits in a cousin's living room no doubt a prime dust gatherer. I have always thought it the best equestrian statue I had ever seen. The horses are at a full gallop, the man at the reins tense, mindful, attuned to the flailing hooves and bobbing heads in front of him. Canvass flaps like a jib loosed in the wind. All of that liquid motion caught in the strobe of the artist's eyes. You must know that the man who laid the plaster on the sculpture's armature had once sat on that wago...

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