M.I.A.

Whoa, gentle readers, my blog production  stinks the last several weeks.  My apologies.  It seems it takes so little to get out of the pocket, out of the routine.  

There's bunches to laugh at, make fun of.  Material shortages aren't the issue at all.  

I could write tombs on my recent foray into woodworking with my son.  It shouldn't be possible for someone to suck so bad at something.  My seven year old is forgiving.  I'm thankful for that.

Traveling has given me several ideas.  Some can be written.  Some, I'll just laugh about on the inside.  There's Punjabi radio stations here in Toronto, some restaurant fare, customs, and airlines, as always, that could make good fodder.  

There's the never ending fount of bad, or politically incorrect, song ideas that continually come to me when I'm desperately seeking viable commercial hooks.  People, I'm not kidding. Notebooks full of useless crap are witness to my strange ability to think of nothing useful.  I should make a weekly blog entry on those.  No, on second thought, maybe I shouldn't.

Just bear with me.  I'm going to find my rhythm again.  I'll be back to barely literate, completely inane, immature nonsense in no time...