Hi this is my Blog. I hope everyone is feeling lovely out there in the large but tiny universe in which we reside. The year, like life is gliding right along. I am here at Georgie's, doing my laundry while he is out at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival, with the rest of the Blackhole Bluegrass Boyz. I turned on the Glo-zone, just to see what it looked like and it is pretty amazing. I ate Red Curry Pork for supper, my fourth night in a row eating pork, I don't know what I ate on Sunday but I think it was Lamb Chops. I am pushing the Meat envelope and also the Dairy envelope. I'm not even sure how to spell envelope, although I'm pretty sure this variation refers to a ceiling of some sort, rather than the folded and glued paper item in which people used to mail letters and the credit card companies now mail endless amounts of junk and checks to access one's endless line of credit, in fact, one can even use those checks to pay one's own credit card bill. Credit or Debit, either way, it's debt. I used my debit card to purchase Curried Pork and I'll have to use it tomorrow morning to pump $50.00 worth of gas into my completely inefficient Nissan pick-em-up (per Bob 7), so I can ride around all over Asheville for another week at most, less if I go anywhere other than home and work and the grocery store and anything else inbetween those points. I am too chicken to ride a scooter, which very brave non-licence holding individuals and anyone smart enough not to pay the exorbident gas prices do. I am pretty sure that in a fairly short amount of time, only the super rich and the absolutely out-to-lunch, will be the only ones able to drive anything other than a scooter but as long as the usual monster trucks that drive half-way in the wrong lane all over Western North Carolina are on the road, I 'm still gonna drive my gas guzzling Nissan 1996 king-cab with a tire strapped to the roof so I can haul my ex-girlfriend's coffee table around until She finds a place to put it. She got the coffee table, along with a couch for me (I now have two, one right in front of the other), at some close-out furniture joint up by the Mall, Mall Wort, WHale Morte, le Morte d'Arthur, and requested that I bring it to my warehouse which currently houses most of the contents of my deceased Grandmother's former home, all the contents of my Mom's former home and lots of my Ex-girlfriends items, that she has no room to store, as well as my business and a bunch of other random, odd infant items. I guess I really should point out that the second couch, which is actually the first couch, isn't mine at all, it belongs to my ex-girlfriend's parents, who probably want it back (blue leather with staples), so that they can put it into storage somewhere in semi-suburban Atlanta, then I'll have all that extra space to fill up with something else, boy, ain't capitalism great, as long as you can access your endless credit line, you can keep filling up spaces with more and more stuff, we'll fill it up and build it up, all the way to heaven and when we get there and see the Neon Jesus in all His/Her electric glory, sitting on the right hand side of Mickey Moses and Donald Trump and pitch our 50 cent tokens into the wicker urnial looking thingy, we'll finally know how great life really is, now isn't that just dandy?