's okay - blow your whistle . . . toot your horn . . . I'll dance to your tunes . . . catchy and full of verve . . . and when you call it a night and go home to your computer, instants meeting ages, I'll probably still be dancing - slow and easy swaying to rhythms of distant beaches and songs from the backyards of yesterday . . . I may miss you - I hope you may miss me more . . . but we will be fine - together or apart . . . dancing to the whistles and toots of our lives . . .
September 24, 2017
September 22, 2017
I suppose that I write to show that I can talk on paper . . . lest some think that I've shrunk off to the netherworld to attempt a redemption of soul . . . Talking out loud sometimes is lost in the cacophony of companion conversation and sometimes is ignored because the cacophony of friends bury the words beneath another exposition . . . My friends are more and more quiet while I, with narrowing paper, continue the conversation . . .
November 20, 2016
June 12, 2016
January 31, 2015
is January 2015 really coming to an end . . . something I guess I never really thought might happen . . . so many of my friends gone before the date . . . including our former forthright friend (and self described, "hardhead") . . . may the justices of the universe see fit to lend him assistance in what follows . . . (or else, quite simply, he'll need to make his own path, as he always did . . . )