For those of you brave enough to cross my borders, thank you for coming. I will be with you shortly.
For the faint of heart, turn back now. I have no loyalties, I have no qualms. I will curse or coddle as I see fit and I live to my own rhythm, rhyme, and reason. Be warned; here there be dragyns and cool misspellings.
Now to my guests, the brave, the wanderers. Let me guide you in the few short moments I have before you click STUMBLE in your Firefox task bar.
My country is a place to be free. Here you can shout or murmur to your head's content, here you can stretch your brain muscles and heart muscles. Here you can say what you cannot in the workplace or home. This isn't a water cooler; it's more of a bonfire.
I was born and raised off the coast of Canada in what my father called "Alaska's Armpit."
I later migrated south, spent time island hopping through Indonesia and other places, and was never on the main land for more than 48 hours.
I finally ran aground on the west coast of America, hit Los Angeles with full force, and skidded all the way to New Orleans. From there I found my way back to the sea, but with very long strings attached all the way back in la-la land where I still work as a writer.