...like a miniature snow train hooting through bloggersville

 
And the concourse smiles...they smile and they laugh and they huzzah....Uncle Mike, who has powers from Lord knows where and is a door-matt in terms of humility, cracks a porcelain smile when he chats about the concourse.

"Humor seems to sometimes be more important than physical health." He says, slipping a grin.

Wrote a long blog this morning that was expectorated by blogger into the dregs of cyperspace. I was ranting about a poetic contemporary who really, vehemently, detested my writing.  She would leave the room when I would read. Be casual and curt in conversation. That sort of thing.

 
Not to be so. Yeah, too much bitterness in the world already....encourage, encourage, encouarge people to follow their joy...to milk their potential into dietary gold...

Someday I'll blogg a story about how arrogant, hoolohoop egoistic david ruined a budding girls career. I was literally Salieri to her Mozart (every time I stuck my tongue in her mouth, it was green with envy)....she was gifted, truley gifted in a cannonical, timeless sense...

My greatest foible was not realizing how sweet the music we made together sounded.