I just washed clean a big haze of can't see the forest because of the trees on the writing front. This came via a well-placed shakabuku, an editorial reset button that was part elixir, part high five. Makes me want to kick spines and swat a flag back and forth into the fray. Might even take that vigor and carve out some time today from Saturday chores to slay more of the demon with that blunt saber saw I have in the garage. Yep. The one smudged with rust. No, I won't need the screwdriver, the saw will be just fine. Maybe an extra battery pack.

Completely irrelevant but it's where my mind is at before the day begins and the coffee steeps, but can some please explain to me why a musical artist's entire general canon can be find on iTunes except the ONE album I played to death in my late teens? Nostalgia for a girl, one of the first who showed me what New York City could really be like. Searched Amazon too and the lowest price for vinyl on this sucker is like seventy bucks. I mean, is there some contract issue, Mr. Hunter? Grrruuh? Take a listen, starts after a moment, and dang, I know I'm not the only one who misses that fuzzy crinkle when the needle approaches a track on vinyl. Expectant unraveling energy.