Well, a Twitter update. I’m at eight followers. I might not be Lady Gaga, but I’m no longer Minnie Pearl.
Thanks to all the Twitteratti who shouted out, and to whom I have followed up a follow in return. And thanks to susielindau for being there with some good 411 for the getting, and for the kind words.
Just so long as you know that you might be creating a monster, it’s all good. Hey, if you’ve downed Mary Shelley’s little Prometheus pill of a misunderstood athlete in combat boots, then you’re well aware of the risks. Okay, Frankenstein didn’t drink very well with others . . . bad example.
Otherwise, check out @caymanthorn on Twitter and go there for the very latest in absolute nonsense. In fact, when I’m done here, I’m planning on running over there for a quick jab at life’s meaning. If you miss it, well then . . you’ll know what it’s like to miss the desert tray at Perkins. So there’s that.
Here’s what I’m listening to on a pleasant spring evening in the middle of March. It’s a little bit long, but man, I think it’s worth every nickel of the ride it’s taking me home on.
Gonna late night dinner it, peeps. But enjoy the tunes. And I would be interested in what you think of this Mr. Devine and all his madness. I happen to think the kid has ups. And change to go along with it.