I live in the City selling my soul in the form of body parts, chic cloth with zazz and style like the Man says, like Women need. Across winding streets and heavy hills, littered with the homeless and the hipsters, sits the Gate I learned to hate--the Gate I face when I cross the Bay to the other side, the North, where good tidings and gold pavements await. Great wine too.

There isn't a day that goes by where I don't write--or at least, jot down lots of ideas. The material lives everywhere. Nicest part is, my greatest inspiration is only a trolley car ride away, and train rides present the best cast of characters like my old airplanes did.

Life is good. Has its ups, has its downs, but life is a parabola, and the mathematics are never sure nor sound. Formulas are subject to change. Where or when the curve will fall or rise is uncertain, but it will rise again. Corrections can always be made.

I miss connection, though. I miss people here.

Hope you all are doing well. I'll try to be around here more often.