Elevators go up. Elevators go down. Some people swim. Some people drown. 4/29/02010 Not a gushy love poem!

You make me smile on the darkest of days. You make me happy in so many ways. 4/28/02010 Yet another gushy love poem.

I love you, like you, need you, want you. But when I'm dead, my ghost won't haunt you. 4/28/02010 A gushy love poem that involves denial of a ghostly afterlife.

I will love you forever; hope you know it. I also wish the Caps didn't blow it. 4/28/02010 I believe this was within a day or two of the Washington Capitals' embarrassing defeat in the Stanley Cup playoffs. Beth's a big fan of the team, which always finds a way of letting her down.

I hope to have you love me in all the days ahead, no matter how much longer until I end up dead. 4/26/02010

A daffodil, a daisy, you almost drive me crazy. A violet, a crocus, you make me lose my focus. 4/25/02010 A gushy love poem, mentioning four varieties of flower that happen to grow on our lawn, through no effort on our part. One of these is Beth's favorite flower. I'm not saying which one.

In the future, you will probably casually toss your jet pack in the back of your flying car with as much wonder and awe as you now assign to an old t-shirt or hoodie. 4/24/02010 Not a gushy love poem! This is a poem about the future that's been promised for so very long and never seems to materialize. And here's one of my favorite quotations: The future has been shrinking by one year per year for my entire life. –Danny Hillis

I am unaware of any true miracle except maybe you. 4/23/02010 A gushy love poem, of course. In case you don't know, I am a non-believer in all gods. I believe that beneficial coincidences happen. But that's kind of different from believing in miracles. If you want something along the same lines of this poem, but much more beautiful, I'd recommend reading the lyrics to Nick Cave's song "Into My Arms" . Better yet, try listening to it. Here's a link to an intimate live performance . The first couple of verses of this song are among the most beautiful things I can think of at the moment. In the interest of full disclosure, I think I should mention that I was not thinking of the song at the time I composed the poem.

I never find myself wishing that I were out fly fishing. But if fishing were something you wanted to do I would gladly go out fly fishing with you. 4/22/02010 Sort of a gushy love poem. Sort of.

Sherman barking barking barking. Sometimes it's all I hear. Great loud booming booming booming, deep inside my ear. 4/21/02010 Here's a poem about our mongrel, Sherman. When we first got him, he was as quiet as a mouse. I kept asking Beth what was wrong with him, convinced that his silence [and extreme passivity] were a symptom of something, a sure sign that death was near. Well, clearly I broke him. Now he is not passive at all, and he has a very loud and insistent bark. A decade on, he's not showing any signs that he's at all ready for death.

What if I expressed my love for you mathematically? One plus one is greater than infinity, emphatically. 4/20/02010 I also made a six-word variant, inspired by the Six-Word Memoirs project at SMITH Magazine: Me plus you, mathematically: infinity, emphatically. I happen to like the six-word version much more than the original.

Do opossums sniff our blossoms when we're busy cooking? Do armadillos use our pillows when we are not looking? A tired crocodile might still walk a mile to avoid ever crossing your path. Do you think a hoot owl would prefer a blue towel to dry off after taking a bath? Would a bashful giraffe stifle her laugh to make sure that you wouldn't hear it? Would a brave little lizard go out in a blizzard just to prove that he doesn't fear it? Would a laughing hyena get in between a pachyderm and a peanut? You'd never believe the devastation caused by an angry crustacean even if you had seen it. I suspect Swedish rabbits like to dress in nuns' habits — something I don't ever witness. I'm sure many parrots enjoy eating carrots — they're quite good for ocular fitness. Secretive little foxes might rearrange your boxes if you promise to pay no attention. Clumsy polar bears may cause solar flares, which it's wise to nev...

A is for air and B is for bear and C is for care and D is for dare, If E is for ear and F is for fear and G is for gear and H is for here… I am all for you. 4/13/02010 An alphabetical gushy love poem.

I love you through hunger. I love you through thirst. My love might expand but it won't ever burst. 4/12/02010 Another gushy love poem.

I always worry that you will stop loving me someday. I often think that maybe I am always in your way. I sometimes wonder if you'll love me when my teeth fall out. I really hope you'll still remember what our love's about. 4/11/02010 Here's my lack of self-confidence.

Swimming through the ocean, flying through the sky, walking through the wilderness, though I don't know why. Trying to be braver, still ending up as shy, much too confrontational… still your favorite guy? 4/10/02010 This was an exercise in rhyme more than anything else. And the "confrontational" comment stems from a conversation about how my darling wife realized that sometimes I have conversations during which I seem inappropriately argumentative/confrontational/adversarial, though I don't necessarily mean to be.

I don't remember how to play this silly game I'm in. Nonetheless, I'll find my way so someday I may win. 4/9/02010 Beth brought me along that night as an interloper on a dungeon crawl. It had been years since I last played D&D, and I never really did quite get the hang of it. The reference to winning is a sly little joke, given the nature of the game.

"Your eyes, your eyes — they sparkle like diamonds", her husband adoringly said. "Do they twinkle like stars?" she replied with a wink, before getting ready for bed. "Of course they twinkle and they light up the room like a spotlight shone from above!" "And they dance and they shimmer?" "Yes, and not only that — they burn when you glare, my love!" 4/8/02010 I think this is one of my cleverer poems. It's definitely one of my favorites. It reminds me a lot of Lewis Carroll. I think that's a good thing.

There's magic in your tender kiss, delicate touch, and loving glances. 4/7/02010 A gushy love haiku.

You didn't know that you would marry me until you had known me a while. This is one thing that I'm quite certain of, though you say otherwise with a smile. 4/6/02010 My darling wife likes to tell the tale of how she allegedly knew that she was going to marry me the first time she met me. I like to dispute such silly claims.

I love you far past Neptune. I love you way past Mars. I love you past the planets. I love you past the stars. I love you past our galaxy — beyond the Milky Way. I love you all the time — far beyond today. 4/5/02010 A cosmic gushy love poem.

If I could write you a poem that lasts till next week and back, would you say that you'd married a clever old man, not in need of a whack? If I could sing you a song to make birds weep and babies sing, do you think you would love me more than the man who gave you your ring? 4/4/02010 A bizarre gushy love poem.

Congratulations to you. I'm so proud of what you've done. Just to prove it's true, a purse is what you've won! 4/3/02010 I believe this was when my darling wife had lost 100 lbs. If I recall, she got an exercise bike as a reward for the first 50, a coveted purse as a reward for the second 50, and she's scheduled to get a real bicycle as a reward for the third 50. As of the time of this writing, she's about 3 lbs. from reaching that final goal. Have I mentioned that she's amazing?

Did you ever steal a heart before mine? I only ask because you did such a good job stealing my heart — perhaps you've had some practice. 4/2/02010 Another gushy love poem. It seems a pattern.

I'm so glad that you're my bride. It makes me feel so good inside. 4/1/02010 A very dopey gushy love poem, unambiguously aimed at my darling wife.

One million kisses are not nearly enough to show you how much love 3/31/02010 A gushy love haiku.

If you walk a thousand miles and your feet end up as nubs, how will you find smiles? Where will I place rubs? 3/30/02010

Sometimes your hands are so cold it feels as if they will freeze me. Sometimes the pollen's so strong it makes me really quite sneezy. I would rather have you touch me than practice blowing my nose, even if it means I'll be cold from my head right down to my toes. 3/29/02010

If you ever love me, I hope today's the day. Yesterday's already gone. Tomorrow's far away. 3/28/02010

Your smile is delightful, which rhymes with frightful …a word that just doesn't apply. I think you're terrific, which rhymes with horrific …you'll never end up if you try. 3/28/02010

I fell fast asleep last night and wasted away the time when I should have done what's right and sent you a lovely rhyme. 3/28/02010 I missed composing a poem on the 27th of March. I made up for it by composing three on the 28th. This is the first of those.

You have an extraordinary talent for voicing a "meanwhile…back at the Hall of Justice". It makes me sad that you never exercise it any more. It is one thing I miss about the you you used to share with me and no longer do. 3/26/02010 A sad poem about longing for something my darling wife used to do to amuse me and has ceased to do. In case you don't get the pop culture reference, there used to be a Saturday morning cartoon on the teevee about the DC superheroes. There was this narrator who used to say, "meanwhile…back at the Hall of Justice". Beth used to do a spot-on impersonation of said narrator.

I will love you till the stars come home; till the cows fall from the sky. 3/25/02010 See what I did there?

I hope when you dream of a happier future those dreams will still include me. Whenever I picture the decades ahead, by your side is where I want to be. 3/24/02010 Yet another gushy love poem.

Perhaps eventually you'll know just how far I would travel to let our endless loving grow and not let it unravel. 3/23/02010

I always try to tell you but it comes out sounding weak… our love is like a mountain… like the highest-ever peak. 3/22/02010

What if I told you that my knees go weak when you kiss me as you do sometimes when you love me? 3/21/02010

I'm glad that you found me. Oh yes I am! I like you much better than raspberry jam. I love you. I love you! I love you so true. More than clear skies love to be blue. 3/20/02010 You guessed it! Another gushy love poem.

I don't want a baby, not even if it's small, not even a quiet one that knows how to crawl. I don't want a baby no matter how clever, even if it's cute and works a mean lever. I don't want a baby, no matter how smart, talking in sentences right from the start. 3/19/02010 One of the things Beth and I have always been in agreement on is our desire to not have children. Babies can be amusing in their finest moments. But they're really hard to deal with on a long-term basis. Even the best baby in the world has more downside, in my view, than upside.

You know, I've been thinking that if we weren't already married, I would get down on one knee and propose (to you, of course). 3/18/02010 Gushy.

I think of you pleasurably and love you immeasurably. 3/17/02010 Succinct.

Your shoes may be fancy, your dress may be smart. Don't call me Nancy and I won't call you Bart. 3/16/02010 Not a gushy love poem!

You stole my heart and now it's yours. I like thin mints. You like s'mores. 3/15/02010 Girl Scout Thin Mints are, objectively speaking, nature's perfect food. My darling wife likes the marshmallowy "goodness" of s'mores. Enough said.

I forgot my contact lenses and my glasses got foggy but I could still picture your face. 3/14/02010 My job requires that I spend time in walk-in freezers. When I wear my glasses, they fog up upon exiting. This is the whole reason why I got contact lenses. Some days I forget to wear them. This poem was composed on one such day.

When our dog barks and our others do too I still feel a spark when I think of you. 3/13/02010 Sometimes I look at one of these and think "this was a particularly weak effort". Such is the case here.

I feel lonesome, I feel blue when I don't get time with you. 3/12/02010

I love the way you laugh when you think of something funny. I'm glad you don't complain when your eggs turn out all runny. 3/11/02010 Sort of an odd little gushy love poem.

If I could have you love me for just another day, I would be quite lucky in the most wonderful way. If I could have you love me for just another week, I'll be lucky in a way that I could never speak. If I could have you love me for just one month more, my luck would fill me all throughout my core. If I could have you love me for the rest of the year, I would be so lucky; of that you should be clear. If I could have you love me for the rest of my life, I would be the luckiest; perhaps you'd stay my wife. 3/10/02010 Another gushy love poem.

Food with lots of spice can be quite nice. When it's way too hot, nice it is not. 3/9/02010 I had probably cooked something that ended up overly spicy the night before I wrote this one. At least it's not a gushy love poem for a change.

I don't like that I'm so much more trouble than I'm worth. You deserve so much better, the best on the Earth. 3/9/02010 I have this little self-worth problem.

I sometimes lose track of the distinction between a sheep and a lamb, but I'm not confused about ewe. 3/7/02010 I am opposed, in principle, to the pun. But sometimes I resort to using it anyway. Shame on me!

Your delicate fingers are lovely to watch as they tap out their messages on clicking keys, destined for deciphering by far off friends. 3/6/02010 A rare love poem about typing.

Walking hand in hand with you down life's serpentine path is every bit as wonderful as the most luxurious bath. 3/6/02010

At the ocean's edge, the lapping of the waves is a whispering of my love for you. 3/6/02010 This one is quite similar to its immediate predecessor.

When the wind blows through the treetops, it makes a rustling whisper confirming my love for you. 3/4/02010 A gushy love poem that doesn't even rhyme.

Indian food for lunch will be much better than a carrot. Or at least that's my hunch. I wish I could be there to share it. 3/3/02010 This was on a day when Beth went with Jen to Concord. They went to lunch at an Indian restaurant, which made me a bit jealous. Lucky for me, my darling wife brought back some leftovers for my enjoyment.

Flying cars are not here yet. In the future, they'll be I bet. Talking dogs, you'll never find except perhaps deep in your mind. Some things likely, some things un-, bets are lost and bets are won. One unlikelihood already true: lucky me gets love from you. 3/2/02010 This one doesn't really look like a gushy love poem until you get to the end. And there it is!

If you wore a sweater, perhaps you would feel better. At least you might be warm even during a storm. But if you're on a boat, you should consider a coat. Out there on the high seas, the wind's more than just a breeze. 3/1/02010 This one's not a gushy love poem!

Your face is home to some of my favorite parts including my favorite cheeks. I think we've had among the very best of starts: great years and months and days and weeks. 2/28/02010 And another gushy love poem.

Shoes and socks and pants and shirts are things that you can wear. Pinching, poking, teasing, taunting: things that I can bear. Loving, hugging, kissing, laughing: things that we can share. Everything that makes you you: things that make me care. 2/27/02010 Yet another gushy love poem.

A rabbit may be quick. A pony may be pretty. I'm glad you didn't pick a home inside a city. 2/26/02010 I am regularly thankful that we moved to the middle of nowhere, New Hampshire. The lack of crowds, the lack of traffic, the clean air. All of these things are wonderful! Beth found our house by shopping on the internet. We fell in love with the building and probably would have bought it even if it were in Concord or Manchester. But it isn't, and I am glad for that.

I wish I could show you what you let me see: happiness, loveliness, infinity. 2/25/02010

Your face is why I open my eyes each morning to seek happiness 2/24/02010 A haiku.

Relaxation trumps frustration only when you get it. Complication trumps elation only if you let it. 2/23/02010 Either this was written during a week when Beth was suffering from some frustration at work or it was simply an exercise in rhyme. I really can't recall.

When I am sick, I try not to kiss you. I give you some space. I leave you a buffer. This is a trick, but there is an issue: my lips miss your face in hopes you won't suffer. 2/22/02010 I must have been suffering from a cold when I wrote this one.

Your smallest part is dear to my heart, even if that part is shrinking. Your funniest twitches have had me in stitches, so I'm glad you practised your winking. 2/21/02010 My darling wife was in the process of losing lots of weight. As of now, she's down by a bit more than 140 lbs. and is very nearly at her goal. She's amazing! So that's what the reference to shrinking parts is about. The winking reference has to do with her having learned to wink, through practice, since we met. It's not a natural act for her, so it's still awkward. She knows not to pretend that it's a natural act. So she's not prone to using it in public and accidentally creeping people out with it. That's a good thing.

I wish I could give you much more than I'm able… a husband with all of the charm of Clark Gable, a great fancy chair at a great fancy table, your very own horse in its very own stable, a heroic role in a wonderful fable. 2/20/02010 Five rhyming words. I think this would be my record holder even if I hadn't resorted to using a celebrity's name. For those of you who are too young to know who Clark Gable is, you have the internet. Look him up!

If I took all of your kisses and put them in a vault, you could hardly blame me. Really, not my fault. I treasure all those kisses. They're more than I could earn. The trick to ever deserving them is more than I can learn. 2/19/02010

I love your eyes with their ever-changing hues. I love that you love me even if it's just a ruse. I love the turned up curls at the corners of your smile. I'm glad that you've loved me even if just for a while. 2/18/02010 There's my famous insecurity rearing its ugly head. I'm really shocked at how many of these are love poems! If you're sticking around waiting for something that doesn't fit into that category, I admire your persistence. We'll get there. Eventually.

Roses are red. Pansies are pink. I love you more than you ever think. 2/17/02010 Formulaic, no? You got a problem with that?

When you touch me with frozen hands, it's always nice; not because I like the cold but because I love your caress. 2/16/02010 Sometimes my darling wife's hands are freezing! Here I've acknowledged that.

I have loved you ever since you were younger. I will love you even when you are older. You are older now than I was when we fell in love. But I will never be younger than you are now. 2/15/02010 Not my best. I'm pretty confident in saying that.

I is for the infinite love I have for you. L is for the lips you let me kiss you on. O is for your ojos. (That translates to "eyes".) V is for the vision that you put in mine. E is for enjoying all my time with you. Y is for yesterdays and tomorrows, too. O is for only you, who are my lovely wife. U is for unique. (That's what you are.) 2/14/02010 An acrostic. Why not? I'm trying to keep up a one-a-day pace here!

I have noticed recently that I have started to laugh like you, with no intention of doing so. I guess you influence me in ways I never would have anticipated. 2/13/02010 A true story. And the thing is that if you asked me to consciously mimic Beth's laugh without having just heard it, I would be unable to do so. But when I hear it, I know it. Even when I hear it from myself.

This may sound corny and sappy — as if I'm taking you for a ride — when they ask me how to be happy, the best response I can provide — better than puppy breath — has to do with my wife: Be sure to marry Beth — my trick for the happiest life. 2/12/02010 Another gushy love poem.

A penguin will fly through the water; a pelican flies through the air; you've flown as far as Texas; but an emu can't fly anywhere. 2/11/02010 Beth was quick to point out that she has flown farther than to Texas. The flight to Las Vegas brought her even farther from home. Oh well! It wouldn't change the rhyme scheme or the meaning of the poem. Still, I feel as if I should present the original wording of the poem even if it's flawed.

with your history of throwing games of miniature golf with the intention of making me more confident in my ability to hold my own with you, I sometimes wonder whether you have chosen to surrender anything of your identity to try to make yourself fit into some notion of what you think I am looking for. I hope not. 2/10/02010 On our first vacation together [when Beth was my boss; long before I had any idea that we would end up together romantically and long after she claims to have known that we would marry], we went miniature golfing. I got terribly upset at discovering that she wasn't competing to the best of her ability and was, instead, playing intentionally ineptly. This was some silly misguided ploy of hers. Something to do with believing that men can't be comfortable with losing in sporting competition to women. She wanted my ego to come away unbruised, as I understand it. Ridiculous!

Jewelry has metals and flowers have petals, and some people like them a lot. But one thing that's true, sure as Elmer's makes glue: they just don't have what you've got. 2/9/02010 I think this may be among my best.

When the sky falls out from beneath my feet and the ground is too high up to touch you'll still always be my magnetic true north where I'll find you, I love you that much. 2/8/02010 See what I did there? Not too shabby, I think.

I researched my condition. Why consult a physician? This is my diagnosis: chilblains. Good is my prognosis! I know this poem is not so romantic. At least there's no reason to get frantic. My toes will not fall off my feet! Maybe you'll think that's sweet. 2/7/02010 I've recovered. Hooray!

I'll be dead by morning, with hardly any warning. Sharing my final day with you is the only way I would go if I had my say. 2/6/02010 This was when I had a mysterious ailment causing problems with my feet. Hence, the speculation about my impending death. Not to worry. I didn't die that night. For the diagnosis and prognosis, check out tomorrow's poem.

I love you without regret. I hope you do not forget. I love you without remorse. I hope you don't want a horse. I love you with plenty of reason. I hope you don't think that's treason. 2/5/02010

Remember that time you told me a joke? I remember the time you gave me a poke. Remember the time when you sang me a song? I remember one time when I sang along. Remember the time when you drove a car? I remember hoping you wouldn't go far. Remember that time when I wrote you a verse? You might've thought it couldn't get worse. 2/4/02010

When I wake up in the morning and discover that I have been sleeping on my side I take stock of my brain to see which parts have not leaked out through my ear. I am always most pleased to discover that the parts dedicated to loving you are still firmly in place, right where they belong. 2/3/02010 The backstory: I have a horrible memory. This has long been a bit of a private joke with my darling wife. One day, years ago, I said something about how my brain must have leaked out of my head while I was sleeping on my side. I was very proud of myself for formulating such a clever idea. But Beth told me that it was not actually my own original idea. According to her, it was something she had said about me some time earlier. Though I have absolutely no recollection of her version of the idea's origin. Like I said, I have a horrible memory.

If I were able to fly to the stratosphere of my own power, I would only ever try to bring myself near to you, my flower. 2/2/02010 I'm especially proud of what I did with the rhyme scheme here. Say mean things if you like. But the worst you can do is to crush my spirit.

Maybe every step I ever walk and every word I ever talk and every stroke I ever swam and every me I ever am are especially for you. 2/1/02010 I like the structure of this one. Two rhyming pairs sandwiched between a couple of "free verse" lines.

What is the value of a poem compared to the tender touch of my lips on your slumbering cheek? 1/31/02010 The haiku variation: what worth is a verse compared to the tender touch of lips to your cheek? I like the haiku variation more than the original.

Tomorrow is the next day when today's been lost in time… lost except in memory when I was glad you're mine. 1/30/02010 I don't think this one's worded particularly well. Plus it involves forced rhyme. Not my finest moment.

Just as the tallest branches touch the distant sky, so does my love reach to you wherever you are. 1/29/02010 I'm really sappy, no?

Your smile is the best part of my day. Or maybe it's your touch. Perhaps it's your kiss. But I suppose it might be your laugh. I guess it might be your voice. You are the best part of my day. Every day. 1/28/02010 Back to gushy. This one's sort of linked with #10. I'll let you decide which you think is better.

It made me so sad when you busted your knee. I'm glad that you've enjoyed a recovery. I hope you won't need to resort to crutches to escape from your arch enemy's clutches. 1/27/02010 My darling wife dislocated her patella, which was horribly painful. This poem was a celebration of her recovery from that injury. This one's not particularly gushy, I think.

You are the center of my orbit. Without your pull, I would fly off in some random direction, aimless, lost forever. 1/26/02010 What's this? Two consecutive non-rhyming poems! Just hold on a while and soon we'll get to one of those poems that isn't a gushy love poem. Really. It's coming.

How, I wonder, did you prove susceptible to my charms — such as they are, weak and ill-fitting. 1/25/02010 Lookee here: a poem that doesn't rhyme! This one holds special interest for me because of the final punctuation. I could have gone with a question mark, but I chose to go with a period. I take the view that the ", I wonder," brings it out of the interrogative realm and puts it into the declarative realm. Do you agree or disagree?

I know of the long years that you have spent waiting to see me drunk on liquor, wine, or beer. But what I think is much more intoxicating is feeling and knowing that you are near. 1/24/02010 I'm pretty much a teetotaler, in case you don't know. Beth's never seen me drunk. Actually, nobody's ever seen me drunk. But Beth has long been curious as to how I would behave drunk. I think this is one of my most successful poems. It has nice rhymes, but it has narrative integrity, so it doesn't seem (at least in my opinion) like I was stretching to make the rhymes work.

How long will you love me? I always wonder. Will it outlast the rain? Will it outlast the thunder? I hope it will last till the end of my life. I will love you forever, my beautiful wife. 1/23/02010 I like this one from a structural standpoint.

Friday is the day when I most wish I could spend my life with you. Friday is the day when I am most thrilled that you married me. Friday is the day when I am happiest to see your smiling face. Friday is the day when I most want to hear your voice and to feel your hugging. Friday is the day when I most desperately long for your kisses. …Until Saturday arrives. 01/22/02010 I'm pretty sure that January 22 was a Friday this year.

When snow falls on your head I get to see how you might look when your hair turns white. When you crawl into bed I get to be a lucky schnook after day turns to night. 1/21/02010 Schnook!

The farther you roam, the farther you stray, the farther from home 'long the rarely trod way; the farther I'll chase, the farther I'll follow, the farther the place where I'll meet you tomorrow. 1/20/02010 I didn't realise just how many of these poems are gushy love poems until I started posting them to my blog. Eventually we'll get to some poems that do not fit into that category. I promise.

I live life afraid of attack from a pickle. I don't understand why you're so hard to tickle. I still wouldn't trade just a one of your pinches for ball in my hand with third down and just inches. 1/19/02010 I am disgusted by pickles. Beth has been known to chase me around with them, threatening to touch me with them. She's also extraordinarily resistant to tickling. She also used to pinch me quite a lot. Not so much recently. I kind of miss it, actually. The key to perfect harmony would be for her to pinch me, but not so hard that it hurts! The football reference was nothing but a stretch for a rhyme.

If you walk through a garden and trample a flower, is that better or worse than wasting an hour? I'm glad for the hours you've wasted with me. I think they've been better than planting a tree. 1/18/02010 Structurally, this one relates to number 4, but I think it's better.

You fill me with love like your legs fill your pants; like your hand fills your glove; like your joy fills your dance. 1/17/02010 Still a little funny. But I think this was a bit of a better effort than the last one.

If you rhyme with a saint but not with a sinner, you're more likely paint than leftover dinner. I still love your nose and I still love your knees. I still love your toes and you sometimes say please. 1/16/02010 Getting a little funny. Not my best effort, for sure. But perhaps it has its charms.

I love that you're funny. I love that you're kind. I love that you're you. I hope you don't mind. 1/15/02010 Another gushy love poem. I warned you.

Roses are red. Daffodils are yellow. I love you more than the finest green Jello. 1/14/02010 I actually initially mistyped "yellow" as "blue". I sent the poem that way before realising my mistake and sending a correction.

On January 13 of this year, for no particularly important reason, I sent the following poem to my darling wife via text message: I love you. I miss you. I want to hug and kiss you. The poem, simple as it was, was made up on the spur of the moment while I was at work. I quickly followed it with another text message saying something along the lines of "that was your poem for the day". Having sent the followup message, it somehow seemed appropriate to send a second poem the next day. And so I did. Then I kept going. For eight months [so far], I've been sending Beth a new poem on a [mostly] daily basis. I won't claim the resulting poems amount to high art. In fact, I will claim just the opposite. But I think that every once in a while there is a gem or a nugget that makes the exercise seem pretty worthwhile, from the standpoint of the practice of writing . Often, the poems have been downright lousy. Still, for me, the point of the exercise has been a romantic n...

As this ninth anniversary of September 11, 02001 approached, I spent a lot of time listening to "news" programming on the Sirius while I drove around for work. I have been deeply upset about the overt bigotry that's been dominating the discourse over the last several weeks. This past week, it occurred to me that it's been over a quarter of a year since I posted anything to my blog. That, in itself is a shame. In light of the mood that's overtaken the country, it seems especially a shame that my most recent post was about having participated in Everybody Draw Mohammed Day. Don't get me wrong. I am proud to have participated in Everybody Draw Mohammed Day. I think it was a meaningful event, and I think that it was, at least in my case [and, frankly, in its origins], a properly directed protest. Its aim had something to do with saying "intolerance is not welcome", "bullying is not acceptable", "threats against freedom of expression are ...

I participated in Everybody Draw Mohammed Day on May 20, 02010 by drawing Mohammed thrice…not because I am ignorant, immature, or xenophobic; but because I believe that while there is a universal right to be offended by substantially harmless things that other people do, the acceptable options as regards recourse to any such offense DO NOT include violence or threats of violence! "Stick Figure Mohammed" "Mohammed, In From the Cold", or "Mohammed Ponders a Cup" "Mohammed Basks in the Darkness" In order, these are the three Mohammed drawings I did today. The first is a pencil sketch, which I basically did to ensure that I would have something to show even if the rest of my day was unproductive. The second is the first charcoal drawing I've done in probably 15 years. The third is the second charcoal drawing I've done in the same time span.

The established pattern of my thought processes is that I get funny notions into my head and sort of let them stew in there for a while, for no apparent reason and with no obvious trigger. Such has been the case with what I present today. This won't be structured and it likely won't be pretty. Think of it as a philosophical doodle—just a sloppy sketch that may or may not contain a kernel of something worth pursuing in a more formal structure at some point. ----- Based on what we generally know about physics [not including quantum mechanics, which very few of us have any reasonable conception of], it seems to me that a perfectly sane person might reasonably conclude the following: If we could accurately model the position, spin, direction, and velocity of every particle in the universe at any given moment, it would be theoretically possible to plug that data all into an imaginary supercomputer and predict with perfect accuracy the exact state of everything at any future poin...

I've been playing a bit with my blog's design recently. I'm in the process of porting it over to a different host and I am using that as an excuse to alter the looks of the thing. The old version can still be found (for now) at http://www.repealofgravity.com/blog and the new version can be found at http://blog.repealofgravity.com . If you have the old version bookmarked and want to keep current, please update your bookmark. The old location is not going to be updated any more. I expect that it will go away at some point also. I've been trying to figure out a way to set up a 301 Redirect, but so far with no success. Anyway, if you have any comments about the changes in layout, I'd be interested in hearing them. The revamping is still very much in flux. I've changed the background about a half dozen times in about the last three days. At the moment, I'm pleased with what I've come up with. But there's absolutely no guarantee that I will not end up...

I went to see the doctor this morning to get my latest cholesterol test results. He said my numbers are all good! This is a big victory. [The only number he was at all concerned about was a slightly low CBC, but when I explained that I regularly donate blood products and had just donated two units of platelets and a unit of plasma a few days before my blood draw, that concern was completely dismissed.] I read him a list of all the various things I have been doing to improve my health and he said at multiple times that what I've done is "huge". He said he would give me 4 gold stars if he had them. He was very encouraged and thinks that I seem to be on a path to long term and sustainable goodness. He said it's very rare for anybody to take his advice as I have done. And he said he doesn't need to see me again for a year.