We writers have a lot going on in our heads. As necessary as animated ideas and feelings are, silence is essential. Hence, I’ve adopted the creed: If you can’t think something nice, don’t think anything at all.

I remember the running joke, “We’ll fix it in the mix,” from my recording studio days, which became “We’ll fix it in post” when I moved to TV.

A Dog’s Guide to Mindful Living. Sounds like a best seller, if not a social media post

Breathe… Be the star of your own show, not a human version of artificial intelligence.

What? 100 LinkedIn applicants have already responded? It was posted an hour ago! Oh no, I bet one of them has better skills than me. Who posted this job, Casper?

I’m sure you are a nice person but tempo is important. Wait a beat. The audience knows when it's wrong.

When I am screamed at that something is the best, I know it’s hyperbole, bordering on a lie.

You never know the stories within the story until you write it. I’m getting better all the time; but how much time will it take?

I can’t believe my eyes. It’s the ad for the job I’ve been waiting a lifetime for: SODA JERK WANTED.

Prime Suspects Identified in Global Oxygen Waste Crisis: Men in Department Stores

Back to soul. I like rhythm. Grammar checkers have guilty feet. They love commas more than rock stars love weed.

GEO is no knight in shining armor or backstage party, but I want in. It’s a different game, scoring with comportment versus mass.

There he is. The Goober. Every morning at nine he settles into his nest at the corner table of the library.

𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐌𝐂𝟏𝐑. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭?

What is happening to my mastery of instant recall? It has never applied to mathematical formulas or world history—more like who played Screech on Saved by the Bell.

Time and patience have turned the tide. Yes, the buzzards still circle, but the wise now outnumber the lunatics.

LinkedIn is a social network with boundaries. I’ll be passively impudent if you will.

It has been 30 years since Kent resident Donald Connery wrote One American Town, the story of a nameless small town, its virtues, its characters, and how it deals with the prospect of change.

It’s the internet, we don’t know each other, and people steal stuff. I wish to at least assume that you are human, or be able to prove it in court that I had reason to believe.

The erosion of identity and the cruel joke of being human in a quantified world is that my entire life has been reduced to a keyword.