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Travis and Joan

Writing and Doing

This site is about our writing, mostly, but also we offer a little cooking, dining out, some drinking, food and travel tips  and some just messing around. Trav was a farmkid, boat captain and poet.  His talented and lovely partner Joan is a resturant reviewer, food writer, cookbook author, legal counsel, wine expert and much more.

There is one rule here which is a carryover from years at sea. Aboard this strange boat we don't talk about politics or religion. We our however, opinionated. 


We are learning every day. To write. To fail. Try again. Come along with us. 

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Been Forty Years

BEEN FORTY YEARS wake up flinch! wake up rush to put on pants socks shirt shoes jacket outside outside the air is still the air is cold...

NFTs & Blockchains

We writers are hungry for any form of recognition. Having labored long, usually alone at a desk or table, we are continually bedeviled by...

Tract-ah!

The grandson is fascinated by tractors. Bulldozers and excavators are cool, and garbage trucks sublime, but tractors rule. He is growing...

Wescent Crenches

This beauty, this glorious chunk of steel, is an Atlas Diesel engine circa 1920 or so. To a subset of gear heads this is legend. For most...

How About A Little Wire, Scarecrow?

https://www.pacificmaritimegroup.com/how-about-a-little-wire-scarecrow/ Writing is writing, I guess, and here is a link to a Blog post I...

Atlas of Imaginary Places

In the Atlas of Imaginary Places there are dragons among the wet damp caves between Forgotten Seas, where the Circular River has left a...

King Winter

King Winter On a day as this when the winds bear an icy breath, they strip the vines of vineyard leaves, disrupting the careful symmetry...

Out the Office Window

In a previous life I ran a tugboat pretty much every day. My job was to move tons of raw materials--sand, crushed rock, oyster shell--by...

Rough Draft, Some Rougher Than Others

PICKUP that pickup that wondrous pickup where a dark haired girl and Jim gave me cocaine, Oregon beer and a lift. I had flown into...

Wreck on 29

A poem comes from mysterious places. Where I grew up in Wisconsin the country roads were sometimes like tunnels in the snow. Banks and...

I Like LA

I never thought I would live in LA. Like New York, Los Angeles has an outsized reputation, a function, I believe, of movies and...

Traffic and other Calamities

Numbers Game in the jumble rumble slide & acceleration of the LA numbers game— 710, 110, 405, 105— you get bored. Look around. Not at the...

Memorial Daze

I look at our Blog and realize it has been over a year since the last post. It has been a tough year. Both my partner and I have lost our...

Banksy behind the velvet rope

A few years ago we were walking through the wilds of Beverly Hills and stumbled upon an exhibition of items up for auction. It was art...

Take Flight

Sometimes I fly...all the way to the garage. Tinker with some wood, a Japanese saw and some sandpaper. There is something soothing and...

A Little Cheese, No Wine

Something we hunger for in this Time of Lockdown is travel. The photo above is a cheese shop in Barcelona. When quizzed about Spanish...

Too Old, Too late

Once I had an image in my mind, that of a card catalog and it was located in a quiet, orderly library somewhere far away. It was magical...

Baitfish #1

"Baitfish" is my term for a snippet of poetry that doesn't feel completed. It could grow into more or could be made into something with...

Shortest Story

Not every sentence leads to a story. A gripping, killer opening does not always become a novel. Boy howdy. But I encourage you to stab...

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