"Five senses; an incurably abstract intellect; a haphazardly selective memory; a set of preconceptions and assumptions so numerous that I can never examine more than a minority of them—never become even conscious of them all. How much of total reality can such an apparatus let through?"
-CS Lewis

Pete's Poem

The oak outside my window stands
With stark arms yielding crooked hands
The broken bark, the fallen limbs
Tell the tale: What once had had been

Such greatness now stands out alone
In midst a field of straw windblown
Where merry grass leaves flutter, sway
To spread the rumors of the day

With every breath the wind does breathe
The wheat does scatter playfully
And midst the life and vibrance stands
The old oak tree with crooked hands.

Pete derived Pythagoras's theorem from scratch Christmas morning. I tried to help by pointing at things.

West Point Chapel

Took a tour of West Point; Whislter and Edgar Allen Poe went here. And lots of other people.

Christmas Break in NY

First Pete, Hans, and I made another cd of music- christmas songs. Good stuff like Coventry Carol, Douglas Mountain, 3 ships, Good King W, Bring a Torch you little french girl, stuff like that. Then I went to Andy and Tameras' place in NJ and visited Manhatten for a few days to see the Frick Collection, Folk art museum, and the Metropolitain. Then had pizza at Sals again, and walked around with Andy and Tamera. Fun. So the sink is Andys, and then Pete and I making music, and then a family reunion picture that just happened.


and more again-

more Gilmore photos

more pictures of Gilmore...


I went to find another ghost town today called Gilmore. It is along rt 33, and took about 2 hours of driving to finally find. I passed 1 town that whole time, called Lone Pine, and it consisted of a gas station, a cafe, and a couple dwellings. After that there was nothing till Gilmore, which was off 33 a little way up a narrow, dirt, snow laden road. My trusty Subaru did well as ussual. This was a big town. The sign said there was 1 resident living there.


november poem

The end of year, and end of epic
A receding sun adorns;
The snows that all around descend;
When boughs and minds will finally bend;
A whiteness un-described by pen
Recalls a truth forsworn:
That life will be reborn.

NB 11.24.07


Abandoned houses

Krit, my roommate, and Jill, my photography friend, went to Herbert ID, which is a ghost town now. There were more old houses in the woods but my photos didn't come out well. These two buildings on the bluff were stores. The big building was probably a school. We had to drive down long dirt roads and walk over farmers fields to find this place. But it was worth it. I owe my sense of exploration to Dad, whose birthday is tomorrow. Happy Birthday.



It is important to know that Rembrandt was probably the best etcher who ever lived.


Here are a few autumn poems I made

When Autumn Went Away

I met and watched the change of seasons
A girl with red leaves in her hair
And dancing leaves around her feet
And shadows in her stare
But when the new moon turned above
She gathered her things to go
So I lost her laughter when crickets froze
And her leaves within the snow.

NB 10.3.07

The Autumn Never Came

The autumn never came this year
We went from stale summer
To ice
And icy wind

To slaughter

NB 10.18.07



Been to Yellowstone 3 times now. Autumn is nearly over and it's getting too cold to do much hiking anymore, and they close most of it in the winter. Bison all over the place. And thats old faithful up top there.

I went west

I went out west again, with Matt M; he to Provo, and I went up to Idaho. The trip was the highlight of my year to date. We saw some abandoned prarie farms in Kansas, our old comrade Colin Urie in Colorado Springs, and I saw Andrew & Tamera in Orem. My Subaru is tough.


I am modern

On the suggestion of an old friend, I made one of these so that a few of you could read and see what's what in my meandering life. Enjoy.