. . . she just acts like we never have met

"It's all new to me, like some mystery, it can even be like a myth . . ."
-- Bobby Dylan

Here you go you soldiers of love . . . I found this while online in my den,

http://leoweekly.com/ae/all-you-need-serotonin

Time to eat me some bacon.

F.Bear

a streaming bowl of potpourri

what is this . . . http://www.pennathletics.com/ViewArticle.dbml?DB_OEM_ID=1700&ATCLID=204877365

diving records? what is this points scheme? 349.13? is that supposed to be an accomplishment? back in the forest field day of '77, my cousin Herb dove 40 feet under Thunder Bay. Come onnnn now folks, do we have to split hairs here?

By the way, for you honeymooners out there, Thunder Bay -- great newlywed destination. Me and the old lady were there some ten years past. Ahh, memories. Just be weary of the leaches. sawa.

F.Bear

Greetings Ranger Stranger

Greetings Ranger Stranger, you digital passersby walking the streets late at night, perusing the Weekend Boulevards, your eyes on the prize . . .

It strikes me that the blogosphere is fundamentally about the self, it is self referential, self obsessed, Self . . . something. This isn't any landmark finding, just the reason why I have been late to the game. Frankly, I’ve also been hibernating. And yet this century's attraction with identity seems to be a fait accompli.

We are all running to and fro, high and low, and what will we learn about our naked selves during the production? We seek to be surrounded by and within centres of attraction and so who may you ask do I am to attract?

You.

So, kind ladies and handsome gentlemen, pull up a chair or your most stable and trustworthy milk carton, deftly remove that jar of honey from the cupboard.
I aim to pull up anchor . . . let us dance alone together.