FirstBlog

Last night I was in the ER until 4 am with breathing troubles. It wasn't very severe, but it didn't seem to get better as it usuall does and my wife was worried so we went in. I was given Albuterol, which didn't help and a chest X ray and EKG, both of which were normal. I kind of wish they'd found something because then the problem could be solved, or at least explored, but I'm glad they didn't find any problems with my heart. The breathing troubles come and go and it may be what's called "Exercise Induced Asthma", since the symptoms worsen with physical exertion. I'm meeting with my GP on Wednesday, and she will perhaps run more tests. I intend to write more in depth about this over the next day or two and publish it on my hubpage . The staff, from the admins to the nurses to the doctor, were all terrific and it was a very good experience. I'm not one to go to the doctor so it was kind of interesting for me to see a hospital that wasn

I recently started writing for Wizzley, so now you can follow my writing here on blogspot, on hubpages and on wizzley . My Wizzley page is going to be exclusively art analysis, namely film, poetry and fiction. I published my first article yesterday, which was an analysis of Elizabeth Bishop's Poem Filling Station . It received 42 hits in the first 12 hours (which I consider rather impressive do to the niche like subject matter and my new author status) and was actually given an Editor's Choice Award within the first thirty minutes. My skeptical nature had me believing that, perhaps, this award was given out to all new Wizzley authors to sorta bait them into staying, but, after further research, I discovered this is a legitimate award and my article was moved to the front page and featured. Further research and I discovered that I was only the third author on Wizzley to have their first article awarded the Editor's Choice Award. It's an author and my initial experi

I see her over there across the grass between me a creek and a bear. The woman—beautiful, blonde, bloody—in a yellow dress, is being mauled by the bear. She is trapped, the bear ripping scarlet rivulets of pink flesh from her otherwise fleckless epidermis, under the bear, between the creek and me. It has terrible, merciless claws and vicious teeth. She sees me seeing her and she screams. Weaponless and impotent, and fearful to swim, I leave her there with the bear as her yellow dress turns to rust. I originally published this here