“These objects are important for science … they’re potential resources for raw materials in space that we may wish to take advantage of some day,” The New York Times reported last month on proposed fuel stations in space “that one study says could put astronauts on an asteroid by 2024“.

PREMISE

Space exploration is a holy grail and technological byproducts of the crusade lead us into directions that aren’t rocket science. Another byproduct is that an adult generation is aware this planet has been subject to periodic annihilations due to collisions with large objects. A troublesome enough thing to worry about. However,

The space program product is artificial life support outside the global ecosystem (mobile so far–like space caravans). A commercial byproduct is technology, re-education, engineered food stuff and stuff that makes communities in extreme climatic conditions appear habitable, which motivates investment capital to accommodate growing populations in marginal and vulnerable areas.

If human civilization hasn’t become extinct within 2000 years, either people on this  planet will be looking at shiny remnants orbiting the earth and sun and wonder how life on the planet survived human organization possessed by such an obsession or people elsewhere in the universe will navigate around such things on pilgrimages here.

Yes, I would volunteer with the right woman, to take a fifty year trip alone with her to Mars, which is off this planet, or Venus.

Welcome. If you have met or heard of Michael Winn or of Michael Myrow or their progeny, Winn Myrow, and have professional interest, be advised that you may find this website disturbingly disordered, similar in this way to an ordinary human’s mind, and you have only to look at your own mind to see the truth of this.

For the vast majority of us humans, the only mind we know directly is our own. (Exceptions to this, please, get in touch with me.)

Euripides, Homer, Cervantes, Sterne, Stendahl, Dostoevsky, McCullers, West, Faulkner, Flaubert, Marquez, Mann (dropping names like a trail of diamonds to illustrate a point), danced with the notion of  seeing and feeling through the imagined minds of others. In doing this, they drew a distinction called, human life. If we human beings are conscious of ourselves we would each be but a closed loop. Literature is where we have archived these other views.

This website is a personal workshop, like a sculpture studio where words are the only tools and imagination the only material. A story is analogous to a sculpture. The novelist carves his sculpture from the entropy of imagination. Reading The Gambler, for instance, Dostoevsky evokes experience of protagonists in their world.

As you read some of the stories on this website, especially those in daily evolution, you may see what compels anyone to write. Why they prefer to not sit quietly and serenely smile at things, drink green tea and recycle. (The truth is I’ve tried that. A sexy woman can talk me into doing practically anything. It’s miraculous I’m here to tell about it.) It is because I’m grateful to God for women and survival, that not only do I feel compelled to write, but also, I am sworn to tell the truth, regardless of how it may make me look.

As succinctly described by C.S. Lewis in Screwtape Letters, my principle as a writer, in other words, why I write is to act in the present consistent with principles that Christians attribute to the words of Christ. (If you are not a Christian, you will find similar principles in Judaism, Islam, Shamanism, Buddhism and so on.) I write to experience our connection. Yours and mine. You may be a captain of the police department, the madame of a brothel, a parish priest, undertaker, gangster, precocious teenager, whatever, but in that we are in each other’s worlds, I include you. Namaste.

I played chicken with a Coast Guard Cutter and then raced a 36-foot racing sloop close to the wind on a starboard tack, flying an ample genoa on its head, we raced a half mile in a stiff breeze against the ebb to a photo finish at the police dock after which, the channel turns north allowing the sailboat a broad reach. But I caught her, full sail, close to the wind, fair and square.

I had a thought that I should ask you

If you agreed that Facebook is a cyber life,

Unreality realified.

Let’s say I wanted some unknown

no doubt, unknowable

other being out there to get me and my world,

I’d not be running a serial motion picture on Facebook.

But if l did, it must include Bob, Dale,

Large objects

and my idiot son-in-law as well as the

Transgender woman/man I made out with

At Ichiban in PB last month.

She is a bitch.

But it feels like giving my time, self, soul, heart

for the apathetic use or absorption

by cyber friends, who though lovely,

are no substitute for a good blow job

I might not feel as acknowledged

Blow jobs are affordable

There’s always Nicaragua.

Would I do it though?

Have I considered everything? No.

When I connect, will they be human beings?

In the meantime, I often feel as I do feel now,

like an orphan child of a planet

in a different universe,

left here by mistake.

The aforementioned son, in-law?

What happened to due process?

Asked me recently, Are you suffering?

In that moment, I was a little buzzed

And it threw me that he should ask.

Out of the blue like that

I have suffered, that much I know

I’ve been here for a long long time

So much of my life happened here

Whoever left me is never coming back

I’m not content with that.

I’m on my own but I abandon no one.

That isn’t suffering.

Suffering is being present to what is past

What is lost, grieving, giving your soul to God.

Have a heart.

Jeopardy Answer: What is a happy ending?