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  Bobby's myriad world wide credits in music, painting, writing and film production are only exceeded by his philosophy, for in Bobby's world all these things are the same.
  Why did Bobby leave his home town Wichita Kansas for a boat ride down the Mekong river in Vietnam, to a train trip through the bad lands of Mexico?
  It's living the life of an artist that makes Bobby exceptional, for him there is no heaven or hell, they are one. He finds art in everything, it's his ability to find perfection in a stagnant pool of water. If he could exist on coconut milk and butterfly wings he'd be equally at home.
  If they paid him to paint, fine. If not, he would paint anyway.
  Bobby is a banquet of grapes crushed by Italian girls, and for dessert his total forgiveness of the world and all it's faults.
  The wine for this banquet is his quest to change an imperfect world with his philosophy of beauty. Envision going down a ski hill at eighty miles per hour, and you can see how bobby approaches the world of aesthetics.
  If Bobby were an animal, he'd be a cross between a Dalmatian puppy and a majestic Falcon. As a car he'd be a finely tuned Mercedes missing one cylinder.
  Paint brush, pen and drumstick wait for the hand that knows how to bring them to life, namely, Bobby. Bobby has poetry for breakfast, green and red paint for lunch, and for dinner he sups on blues, ballads and be-bop while soaring over musical landscapes on his flying drumset.

For Bobby, the journey is the destination.