He can do everything and anything he sets his mind to: poetry, fiction, prose, cinema, editorials; writes contracts like a lawyer, reports on anything -- even coal mining regulation. He takes amazing photographs and turn them into works of art; made poetic films with million dollar reviews (sans the million bux budget); can draw like Picasso but design for 21st century technology, can write great songs when he has never studied music, and even sings with feeling. He has motivated and inspired more people to follow their dreams than anyone else I know. My life would not be what it is without him. He is my brother, my best friend, my creative partner . . . in every aspect of what helps me make my life full.
One charismatic motherfucka, too.But check out this little letter written to a friend about the drag of needing to read and the pain of wanting to write: Butterfly Ballet. This is the sort of essay he throws away without thinking twice about it. It makes me crazy! (crazier than usual ;-)
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