An artist friend told me the story of a man arrested at a gallery for tampering with a painting as it hung on the wall. The artist had the perfect defense: It was his own work, and he just needed to make some adjustments. Whether or not the story’s true, the writer in me empathizes with the man’s endeavor. I know I could amuse and abuse myself for endless hours fixing and adjusting some of my projects, without ever feeling a sense of completion.

This website is rather a new venture, so I know I’ll be futzing with it for some time to come. Please bear with me: I wrastle, therefore I am.