Baby I love your way

Abbot - I just had a *gay* moment: I was reflecting on your Dylan post and our conversation last night about my "blonde woman" posts (with my reference to Peter Frampton) and was thinking about *us* and feeling like "we're not seeing enough of each other any more". I just want you to know dear Abbot that...




And no, dear readers, I haven't been into the drink yet, here at all of 3:52pm. It was the *gay* drink within that rose up inside of me.

The drinking I hope will start real soon though - and that, we know by now, will further activate "the drink" within me.

It's a beautiful circle.

Comrades, do you think that there is any danger in experiencing life in this way?

I look forward to your comments and any referrals you'd kindly like to make.

A drink of Dylan

Yes, Vivant--books can be your friend. And so can Bob Dylan. With books and with Bobby, you can't give them much--except your allegiance--but they can give you plenty. As they do me.

Sitting here listening to Bob, as I so often do late. This time I'm trying to figure out how to transfer photos from my Rogers phone to my computer, so I can post pictures to this blog instead of scouring the web for any visuals to accompany these ramblings. But--and maybe this is just because Ted Rogers died yesterday--this little Rogers device won't cooperate. It's in mourning, I think. Mourning at night.

So no new photos. Just Zimmy.