The wreckage will shield him from the gaze of wild animals

Wha dup?

It has been quite awhile since I last dipped cyber-quill into ether-ink. Where to begin? Well, the past month has been a busy and stressful `un. Lots of barely met deadlines, hectic schedulies, and, of course, the lamentable submission of paperwork to creative dabblings. But all is not clams and snakes in this ice-planet. The lion's-share of said tasks are finished. And now I intend to settle in to a bit of sloth-like lazing.

Improv has been good to I. Me and Johnny Longform performed a lil' gig for the Thurber House, which is an association of community members who like to reward American authors for being good, and it went swimmingly. W00t to professional improv. I have been more seriously considering taking the Hankinsonian path. Not the one that leads to bicicyle courierism, but rather the one that leads to Chicago and professional glory. Now if only I could find the map...

My new friend and associate Peter C leaves for his native land of Enga-land before the week ends. Ah, tis a sad thing indeed to be separated from good folks. But that is the dance of life, no?

Quickly to the raspberry manashevitz!

M