I am a ghost now, with two jobs -- musician and BlackBook scribe -- and a published author (I signed the books earlier this week ... boxes of them...my god, it's real). Hell, I am gauzy tired, dear reader, or just overcome with information. We writers dream of you. I can see a face which changes so fast when I think of you, and thousands of peaceful beams of light want to go through my fingertips to you. Damn. A writer with no reader? That would be an impossible echo. But maybe there you are; in the best of ways I went ghost, and so did you, if you are reading this. We must assume what we're like and why you're reading and why I am here -- eh, this is a two way street after all. Well, good then. Hello.