Until the first of the year as far as new sequences, but I expect a new book to drop in time for the holidays.
Two and a half months of mixing metaphors on the wrong side of the creek, retro rockets have been fired. Reentry has been effectuated. Thursday and Sunday posts will be well-intended if not actually posted, and for the remainder of the year all content will be random. Reentry in fact began at a laundromat in Old Town a couple of weeks ago. I realized that in my time here I have become, like Emily D. myself a millionaire/in little wealths. The gig included a period of time when Friday nights are synonymous with high school football, and Eleanor celebrated her 99th birthday and the party was terrific, and the Chicago Cubs won the World Series, and Donald Trump was elected president of the USA. I dined with beautiful women and their daughters and husbands, I reacquainted myself with former coworkers who became friends and the wonderful people one encounters in the day to day, such as at Spudnuts or Domingo’s or the County of Santa Barbara. It was intense in some cases, and what a coincidence that I was here in this area, a convergence that seemed preordained. I posted to meet my contractual obligations. I made my nut, and I’m ready once again to move on. I’m not the only one in reentry here, at this locale, clearly, and the gig has carried me that much closer to death; Eliot: Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”/Let us go and make our visit.