Over the last 9 months, I have downgraded my blogging from a rage of ever-manic prance and prowl - of outrageous and intrepid poetic burstforths - to pretty much just droll plebian utterances.   And I have noticed that you have noticed by not taking much notice.  You see, I have intentionally slipped and slided away, so that you won't miss me when I'm gone.  And by the response lately, I judge that my strategy has, indeed, been masterful. 

How fascinating it has been to mix into this (our) Oblivion (yes, the oblivious shall inherit post-doomsday, and post-doomsday shall inherit the fruit on that other tree: the hyper-visonary, meta-eroticized, extra-insalivating, delve-into-the-post-deluvian-deluge {why didn't Eve wait until sunrise when the sighting for plucking would have been better?} Permitted Fruit.

I love you all.

Will see ya in that other Dreamland - the land of numinously non-evanescent, refreshingly effervescent, unimaginably everlasting, yet undeniably evershining Golden Eternities.  

Ready or not.  Here I go.