You can’t spell yammer without “me.”

Here’s the story behind the art under people’s behinds.

Yesterday, I looked at things that people made and talked to people about making thing-makers. It made for a good day.

There are storybook weddings and there are StorySlam weddings.

Pal and colleague, Kevin Ginsberg, and I were recently art-mortalized by the fine folks of First Person Arts for our contributions to their bimonthly StorySlams. Our mugs, along with a dozen or so others, will grace the margins of Slam-related marketing materials.

If you’ve never spent the day at your kids’ preschool’s Fall Fair, dressed as Teen Wolf, transforming signatures into monsters, you haven’t lived.

I teach my students about important European artists while important European students are taught about me. True but strange.

Thanks to Ms. Crook’s art classes for giving some of my faces a block print facelift.

A firsthand account of secondhand artichokes, told at my sixth First Person Arts event.

You never forget your first hickey, even especially if it was given to you by a hot tub.

Colleague and pal, Kevin Ginsberg, cut his StorySlam teeth as well. Thanks to former student, Hahri Shin, for capturing our moments in the sun.

Last evening, I found myself at a pal’s relative’s bar with pals and relatives. I drew a picture of my lovely wife on a filthy napkin and my wife returned the favor. Longtime comrade, Scott, and sister-in-law, Kimmy, followed suit.