2018 On The Run, or: “Gypsy sons, all were born to run…”

Oh hey. I used to blog once. Once… So hello again fellow space travelers, and I’m hoping anyone still reading this blog had a most amazing holiday season, which is now receding into the shimmering mists of the recent past like trees in the rear-view mirror during the Chickie Run sequence in “Rebel Without A…

2016 On The Run, or: “Breaking out of my body, and flying away…”

Well… how about that 2016, huh? I don’t know what it is about this year, but people just seem to be having the most miserable mess of things in the temporal fluxification of MMXVI. We lost Bowie, Prince, two-thirds of Emerson Lake & Palmer, and the great Alan Thicke, and we gained a Trump presidency.…