Been wondering who I can write to, now my social intercourse with the planet has ended. Figured it out. I’ll just write to you. How’ve you been? Well, I hope. Sending love your way.

I could tell you how things are going in my life lately, if I had one, but alas, no joy in Mudville. So we’re pretty much stuck with dreams, hopes, and aspirations. And cogitations, certainly. A little poetry, maybe, if I’m feeling artistical, and words heartfelt, deep-thought, and divided into lines qualifies.

My interests are a little narrow, I’m afraid. I only like stuff that doesn’t exist.

That may be overstating it a bit, but that’s my job.

Revving up my hypothetical engine to take a road trip in a few days. Along the spine of the world. Going in search of peace. Ha. Don Quixote went to war, and people thought he was crazy. It’s like reverse quixoticism. Guess I’m citoxiuq. Homeopathy is how I heal.

Still your old pal,

don LWIII