I am a journalist. I work as a photojournalist in the television industry to earn a living, but my true passion is writing. I've always wanted to have a forum for my views; a place I could display my writings and works.

Thus, this site has given me that opportunity

Below are some of the writings I have posted on this site along with some journal entries I will do periodically.

Be forewarned, this sailor drops a few f-bombs from time to time....so if offended easily, pass on...

Reality is only as brutal as you see...

-summer 2005

I've been writing all my life. For as long as I can remember. It's just one of those things I've always done. From the storytelling to abstract journal writing to songs and prose, I've just done it as long as I can rmemeber. I have stacks and stacks of journals, notebooks, song books, from all over covering all the different eras and epochs of my life.

I'm not saying I'm any good. Hell, most of the crap I read back is that...crap. But, it's been my most consistent outlet for creativity and emotion and whatever may be ailing me at that particular moment.

It's therapeutic and enjoyable and become more than just a hobby. It's a mission...

Over the last few years, I've started to share some of my work with friends, family, acquaintances, and beyond and have gotten some cool, positive feedback.

"You should do this for a living..." I keep hearing. However, freelance writing is a tough, poverty ridden lifestyle that I, with two children, can't afford to afford. My job is steady work, pays the bills, and supports the little ones...

But I keep on...

I've gotten a bunch of short pieces compiled that I want to release as a chapbook collection called "The Third Summer." It's a collection of journal entries, stories, and tales from my third summer on the beach in Willoughby in 2005. It's a period where I was writing a great deal more than usual and produced a high number of pieces, the most since my days of working on the university newspaper in Missouri.

I've continued to fill journals, more intermittently now, and started a novel last year, that I've recently started working on again.

The novel is a fiction-based on reality kind of piece, collecting stories and experiences over my last five years living on this peninsula in Virginia. It's going to be a five-act story, where each act is a month of summer, from May to September, of course with an epilogue in October...

This is my attempt at the "first great" novel, my attempt at a "The Rum Diary" kind of piece, which is my inspiration. Old Uncle Hunter is hopefully looking down proudly one me.

So welcome to my words and enjoy your visit and reads...I hope some of my stories entertain you and I would love to hear your feedback about what you read.

The more I write, the more I will add, and I'll be digging through some old journals as well, hopefully finding many lost gems I'd forgotten about from days passed.

Again, welcome...
-2007

summer 2007
Year of the Rat

news headline

sunset 2007

neighbor

on the soap box ver 1.0

the rat confrontations...

time to go

fuck the dmv

red tide

the last day

4-30

cover letter

this generation

thirty seven

feb9

london

pre-london

summer 2006
Year of the Opossum

False Idols
(fiction...based on reality)

New Year's Revelation

the first of several vacations

surfing in december

thanksgiving

pre-nashville

oct30

eisenhower

the interview

nevermind joplin, here come the koreans...

empty

september session

august on the beach

The Great Opossum Hunter Rides Again...

Hurricane Isabelle
(2003)

The Death of Porkchop

Richmond

Cold Water in November

Election Day 05

A Personal Day

A Perfect Day

first day of surfing

End of May

weekend mornings

oregon inlet

a night in tijuana jail

The whores

summer 2005
Year of the Loggerhead

Willoughby in April: A Reflection

Rescue at Sea

Another Fishing Day

The Sad Tale of the Loggerhead

Good Friday

Sunday Morning

Hookers in the Rain

Molotov Wedding Blues

Election Day Recycled

Thursday May Something Close to June

another fryday

A Tuesday Night

The Day Uncle Hunter Died

part of me died

"Oh I see now...you have boobies..."

end of february winter

from discourse to now

I am the interloper

I can write

Horsey Go Night-Night

Payday Manifesto

The Poor Man

Winter in Willoughby
1.7.6

It's Not My Fault
(fiction)

past journal entries...

4.25.05

4.16.05

12.25.01

12.23.01