That was a text I received from Ishmael at 1:06 p.m. today, while I was getting me head smacked and knotted and Charles knocked another rivet out of that old fencing mask and broke the flange as I staggered after him... And no, I wasn't kicking, Bro and he's not a Dindu.
I understand my published output is down. There area few reasons;
1. My hip is so messed up I can't sit for long and type. I'm working on arranging a standing desk.
2. I am starting and finishing some books, novels mostly, which I have not been posting online. Skulker Jones ended up taking four chapters to finish instead of two. Thanks for your concern. The Dindus will eventually get me, but not yet.
In the meantime I am taking two trips out of town, courtesy of Nero the Pict and Mescaline Franklin, before the end of this month. So expect low output this weekend and next.
War Drums: Forty Miles from The Big House
James, for all our sake, will you get out of there before you are just another obit? If you are so fatalistic about the eventual attack that will take you out you must find a new situation for yourself, You apparently enjoyed your trip out west so " Go west young man". I'm just a stranger but feel that I have come to know you. Please take care.
Dave M