My morning walk begins along a street in my neighborhood where I am often accosted by two panhandling cats. One is a young Maine coon, who perches her dainty self at easy scratching height on a fence. If I choose to ignore her, don’t leave a treat, her squeaks and needy eyes make me feel a pang of guilt I cannot define. Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Android | Stitcher | TuneIn | iHeart Radio | Spotify | Google Podcasts | Deezer| Pandora Quite the opposite strategy is employed by an obese tiger, who leaves trails in the leaves with his […]

It is mahvalous, it wreaks of romance and drama...this place called Duckton Abbey. It is located in a pond, in the leafy green plaza of the town where I live.

I have the odd habit of talking to cars. I interviewed a few of them, listening to their stories, which range from abandonment to becoming King of the Road.

How I spent days before Christmas in Fiji during a military coup amidst fake news stories that it was staged by the US and being questioned whether I was CIA.

A lesson in Boontling, a folk language spoken only in Boonville, Calfornia, from two old timers, aka "squirrel bacon."

I have never been a day drinker. But here I am, under the bright sun, next to a vineyard of all things, with a glass of vodka in my hand.

Carl Payne was a San Francisco legend who made music with cable car bells. I talked to him and recorded his champion performance.

Every year in August, pilgrims arrive from all over the world to celebrate the I AM Come pageant a spectacular passion play with a twist, in fact many twists, on the slope of Mt. Shasta, California. I AM was founded in the 1930s by one Guy Ballard, who claimed to have met Saint Germain, a European mystic rumored to be the son of the Prince of Transylvania, while hiking on the mountain. Ballard claims Saint Germain anointed him an Ascended Master, joining the ranks of Jesus and George Washington. I attended a few years ago and recorded some of it. […]

I am not Ahab. No huge aquatic creature has chomped off my leg. I am not Hemingway. I have never battled a marlin. But, I have always dreamed of whoppers.

So, why am I in New York City looking for a chicken, a chicken that plays tic tac toe? I begin my search on Mott and Canal, on the edge of Chinatown.