Gone is easy to understand. Like Gone With the Wind, by Margaret Mitchel, a tragic character herself, also gone for some time now.
And Bob Marley, the Rasta Man who only asked for a piece of equality and the equality of peace. He was also notorious for asking for a piece, may he rest in peace.
Yes, GONE is easy to understand. This blog format just never has quiet found itself, or sprouted wings. In fact, if anything, it's degenerated several layers, until there's really nothing left to do but throw the baby out with the wash water. So, until I come up with something better to do with this space, I'm parking the keyboard.
If I get a burst of southern inspiration from time to time, I will find a vent for it. Meanwhile it's back to full tilt to my crappy job until it plays out.
May the damnyankees rot in hell a hundred years before they're missed on earth, and may the midwesterners beat them there by two hundred more. As for southern traitors who help them out, hell is too good for them.
We're preparing them a special placewhere they can watch their children grow up with their chosen comrads.
From beneath the Carolina moon, where life is always more than it appears to be, I will now take my pause, and leave. Thank you.
Dread
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