At some point, I stepped in a large pile of shit. But let’s back up a bit to put that in context. The above photo…
When Thugs Cry showed up in my attic apartment that I lived in when my mooseknuckle was forced into an insulated closet and white stuff…
An artist’s soul is tortured? Fuck you it is. The artist is a thing of pity that everyone tries to understand because at some point they…
Every fall, around the St. George Marathon, my dad and I get together to do something that is a bit outside of the mainstream, even for…
There is a short section of bike lanes in St. George. They run from Diagonal Street south to the Boulevard and then along 300 South…
It was January, 2003. I was in Santiago, Chile waiting at the train station. My stomach was churning with anxiety, my foot constantly tapping the…
If justice existed, what would the world look like? This concept that we, as humans, have constructed has no basis in reality. Looking to the…