I am in the process of moving, physically, as well as making myriad other adjustments, major and minor.
All of these things are good.
For every silver lining, they say, there is a cloud. And the cloud here is that, for the foreseeable future, escape velocity will not permit me to post to this blog. There is neither time nor space for it. At least as time and space are currently constituted. Of course, that is one of the things I will be working on. ; )
Someday, I imagine, I may return here. But not for the nonce.
So, until such time as we again begin here the beguine, a little somethin’ that used to be around. That still is, actually. Written by Philip Whalen. Evangelized by Lew Welch.
Further NoticeI can't live in this world And I refuse to kill myself Or let you kill me The dill plant lives, the airplane My alarm clock, this ink I won't go away I shall be myself— Free, a genius, an embarrassment Like the Indian, the buffalo Like Yellowstone National Park.