Laughter is health to the bones; heal thyself:


Vanlife

I lived in a caravan for three years before the pandemic. I paused that lifestyle and for nine months lived in a mountain cottage in northern Alentejo; lovely, but recently I took a trip in my van again and realized how much I love the vanlife and why. I love the...

Could Care Less

A man and a woman drive around town. A: I could care less where we eat.B: Oh, good, I was worried we would fight; god, I'm tired of fighting.A: I just don't want Italian.B: I thought you said you didn't care.A: I said, I could care less.B: I thought you said "I...

Silence

Critic: Why don't you write? Isn't that the one and only, the single, most obvious rule that you must follow: Do not stop writing? And yet you did stop, so... Writer: Yep. Critic: So, that makes you pathetic. A real low life. A writer who doesn't write. Writer: Have...

My family and I think of ourselves as errant romantic bohemian garden artists who tour the world’s oldest forests. We sprinkle chicory, purslane, white man’s foot, and lavender seed in the barren glyphosated roadways between Ferney-Voltaire and Sintra. Probably we are just homeless with wifi, but we prefer our van to any apartment.