I'm still here. But on the road. Am learning that place has a lot to do with one's ability to think. Being in the French Quarter doesn't make thoughts of the Northland flow like the Grass River between Elbow and Iskwasum lakes. Me and Uncle Emil have had our discord of late but are ironing things out. I should have known better than to go against the grain of the mental pictures he sent me. I'm 63 but still learning, thank God. Emil calls the shots. I merely poke my fingers at the key board.
In the next couple of days I'll have Emil's latest story. But its been an on and off kind of thing. Most writers have some hot babe muse. I've got Uncle Emil. My pleasure indeed.