Migration

I’ve been up to no good.

I’ve been consuming vintage and not-so-vintage videos on MTV.com like one might feast on the blue-gray frosty melt of broadcast static after being the focal point of a nuclear winter’s burning, parching laser blast.

I’ve been indulging in the past.

I’ve been performing CPR on my ghost.

I’ve been a good ghost at whork.

My mind is on the verge of 40 days and 40 nights.

My body needs some rest and some running.

My soul needs kindling.

I figured out the migration, Ann. There are now some 800 or so entries from an oddly named old blog to a new place. Still as stranded as ever. Ever marooned.

Let me out. (That's a clue...)