Being Human
AI– Artificial Intelligence. Most of us have literally seen that movie. The first Terminator movie was shown in 1984 and Ahnald, the Terminator, said, "I'll be back”.
Tyranny! We are taught to resist it ... at ANY cost.
Yet, virtually all of us have willingly invited it into our own homes.
Within those walls, it lurks, bosses us around every day, offers us untenable choices, plies us with guilt. No, I am not talking about your tw- year-old grandchild dropped off for the weekend by your unappreciative son.
In life, there is medicine in all kinds of things that don’t live in a little rust-colored plastic bottle with a tamper-proof top, and a white label on the side stating, "no refills.”
Today’s remedy comes from an oversized suitcase…
Reflecting back on the essays posted this year, I can’t help but notice that each piece plays its own unique note, yet contributes to a harmonious whole—a collective symphony of insights that transcends the sum of its parts.
Dive back in or catch up on what you’ve missed, and see if any of these strike a chord…
I’ve often pondered my affinity for a diverse array of interests, whether it be food, culture, art, music, or people. It’s as if I resist committing to a single passion and fully immersing myself in it, owning it and becoming known for it. Instead, I’ve been what might be kindly stated as a "jack of all trades, master of none". Or perhaps to some, an outsider lacking pedigree, or even purity of blood and thought.
Yet, I have managed to be neither this nor that. And at the same time, on a good day, both.
Imagine a mundane, post-war America obsessed with conformity. In this world of mean definitions of perfection, everyone secretly felt their own families were peculiar, if not downright eerie.
Enter Charles Addams, a middle class guy, toiling away in a nameless drab office from an unremarkable little town in New Jersey. Little did he know, within the confines of his mind, he was dreaming up a masterpiece of madness, campiness and dark humor.
If you’re reading this, you already know I have a little problem keeping my big mouth shut.
I'm not talking about reduced fruit preserves here. I’m talking about how we define who we are and what we are into—what makes us feel alive. It’s our jam. And oh, how we love to protect it.
There’s a reason "if it bleeds it leads" works. Coined in the 1890s by William Randolph Hearst during a period when yellow journalism (a reporting style that stooped to new lows) was at an all-time high, the phrase meant sensational, violent stories got prioritized in the evening news.
And it holds true today.
Oops...I may have just lost half of my readers. Who am I referring to? Everyone wrapped up in “hustle culture,” of course.
This is the time of year when we think a lot about time: its passage, how much we have left, what have we done with it, how much we let get away, and what comes next.
Last week, I was on a business trip visiting one of my old haunts—the Marylebone district of London. It was a place that became the center of my business operations for a while. It’s also where I learned that there’s an art to failing.
Some say we are living in the “post-truth” world—an age in which people are making things up right and left. Allow me, dear readers to be brazen; I am tired of all of the nonsense being labeled as “real.”
What’s it like to be a refugee? What exactly is a refugee? What are the struggles associated with immigrating to the United States, and what does it take to help the people who do so to thrive?
There is a special place in my heart for Love Field—and not only because of its name. I love Love Field because it was my point of departure from which I set off to see the rest of this wide world.
Meet Austin urban artist, J Muzacz. His story should be told, not just for his own benefit, but for the benefit of dozens of artists around Austin who have learned from him, worked with him, and been inspired by him.
Greatness knows no gender, no sexual preference, no color, no nationality, no balance in a bank account, no region, no religion. I have been greatly influenced by many women in my life; women I could easily call my heroes. And I believe that my next two heroes, Margaret Mead, and Lucille Ball certainly live up to that spirit of greatness.
Have you ever felt lucky? If you are a human who has lived on this planet their entire life, then you have probably had an encounter with it at some point. But is it actually luck? How do you know?
There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who want to hear your story, and those who could not care less. Which kind of person are you?
In my friend's culture, dancing was such a common and natural activity. So, when someone stopped, it was alarming enough to take them to the local healer to search for the cause. So, lately, I’ve been asking myself: Have I stopped dancing? If so, why?
In a normal year, as things wind down, I like to think back on the happenings of the last 12 months and then pack them up and put them away. Well, not this year.
We lived through this freeze, and the subsequent rebirth of our garden at the exact same time we were living through the pandemic. Like the freeze, Covid-19 decimated my sense of community. So, how can we get it back?
One of the strange things about Zoom calls is that you can literally see yourself as part of the conversation. And what do we do instead of looking at the speaker? We watch ourselves! So, with that I ask…is it unnatural to stare at ourselves all the time, or is it just me?
Triptych—a fancy art world term used to describe a piece of art which has been split into three. When something is presented in three parts, it often gives us the space to tell a longer story in just the right way we want to. In this series, I’ll be doing just that: a story about my personal journey through the pandemic, told in three parts.
With my son, Ben Brimble, having just graduated college, the song Kokomo by the Beach Boys has been on my mind lately. I’ve been thinking about journeys; about taking it fast, and taking it slow; about getting to where we want to go. And it has me wondering: where do you imagine your Kokomo is?
West Texas is like a big sponge. There’s plenty of sky out there to absorb whatever it is we wish to discard, and there’s plenty of land to soak up whatever spills out.
Most think contemplation of their garden should be done only once it’s been tended, but I say that even more valuable contemplation can be had when the garden is in its most disordered state.
Recently, a friend sent me a book to read, and asked that I pass it along to someone else after reading.
The more I thought about it, the more profound the request seemed.