The outdoors is in my blood.

It's also all over my shoes, in my hair, and ground into my pants. The rushing, arid winds of the desert make me feel alive, and the sting of sand in my eyes makes me wish I remembered my goggles. I appreciate Nevada's history, and I realize it is up to me and me alone to document its historic sites, before they are ground into dust by the callous boot heel of time.

I regularly disregard my own personal safety for the well-being of others. I try to eat red meat at every meal. I've memorized and refuted the complete works of Niels Bohr. I try to keep in shape. If there is anything finer than riding down a Nevada back road on my ATV, I don't know what it is.

I don't believe there's any point in ordering a hamburger if you're not going to get it with cheese. I'm usually armed. I like Luis a lot, but not like you're thinking. I don't like sudden noises.

I firmly believe I am immune to ultraviolet rays.

I always carry a copy of Nietzsche's Götzen-Dämmerung, oder Wie man mit dem Hammer philosophiert in case we run into an old prospector who thinks Rousseau is all that and a bag of chips. I have always said that to know the truth of history is to realize its ultimate myth and its inevitable ambiguity.

I can eat more sausages than any man alive. I can talk in English but think in Spanish, if I want to. When riding my ATV up a desert canyon, I am struck by the beauty of the wilderness, and sometimes also by falling rocks. There's always room for one more piece of pepper jerky. Forgetting to take your coffee is an acceptable reason to cancel a trip. I'm sensitive and caring.

I use photography as a way to form content by a distilling ideas, thought, experience, insight and understanding. Also as an excuse to get out of the house once in a while. I enjoy an occasional refreshing beer after a dusty ride, but only if someone else is driving. I'm always worried about bobcats jumping on my back, even when I'm in town.