JUST BACK from a whirlwind tour of the Outer Hebrides with my band, Suede Pancake. More after a wee nip and a wee nap.

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Now this is an excuse for not blogging.

Me. I have no excuse. I'm ignoring you. Ig. Nor. Ing. You.

*pbthpbth*

Or, maybe I'm experimenting to see how best to drive away all my human readers, so that this site becomes the province of automated scripts and bots.

Sorry if that rubs your cabbage crosswise, but there you have it.

I'll be back when I bloody well feel like it, and not a moment sooner.

Or maybe someone will buy me a present, and hasten my return (hell, it worked for Sullivan, dinnit?)

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Well, that was certainly not what I was promised in the travel brochure.

I am at the moment somewhat overcome by an unfortunate interaction between my SSRI of choice and an anti - inflammatory called Mobic, which is what they're giving to folks with busted knee meniscii like me now that they've discovered that if you're an elderly person taking Vioxx and you stop taking aspirin, your risk of heart attack increases.

Which of course, has more to do with statistics, politics, money, and aspirin than with Vioxx, but there you are and, hey! Here I am, writing the plaid writing once again. For how long, I cannot say. I got me a bad mojo moon over this site; its focus has become diffuse like a solitary kleenex adrift deep with the waters of a pool frequented by hunky Spanish men with pouty lips.

But this little mind of mine - - so in thrall to developmental trauma and subsequent substances of various colors and sounds - - has now become a cottage cheese battleground of misbehaving receptor sites and the chemical constructions of the mad scientists at Forest Laboratories and Boehringer Ingelheim, cackling and rubbing their gloved hands with white - coated glee as they whip their chemical sequencing machinery into frenzied production. You'd think they'd get together.

Scientist 1: Say, have you noticed that the Rabbits from G Control are exploding?

Scientist 2: Why, yes - - what do you suppose is causing that?

Scientist 1: We think that iterations from Group 27 - 05B don't play well with the compounds from D7 group.

Scientist 2: Interesting. Well, how many rabbits are exploding?

Scientist 1: Not enough to worry about. Besides - - the group 27s and the D7s are going to be hot hot hot!

Scientist 2: Yeah boy! W00t! Cash money, yo!

Maybe it's better that they don't get together, actually. At any rate, once again I find myself heading off to the vending machine for a new three - pound set of dendrites and foldable furrowed brainmush. Or I would find myself doing that, if such a machine existed, and if I had managed to repress the whole Cheez - Doodle in the ear incident.

But I haven't, and any attempt to use my brainmass to focus on something meaningful - - like just how badly we're fucking up what was supposed to be, you know, this generation's Great Cause - - I just go all a - twitter behind the eyes and have to go get me some benzos.

Mmmm... benzos...

But enough about me. How are you? We haven't spoken in like ages and I'm just dying to know how that thing went with that guy you met at the place.

Ta - ta!

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