Thursday, April 25, 2013
Greetings, Patient Readers.
First off, a sincere apology. New entries have been materializing here slower then the dinosaur-corpse-to-fossil-fuel conversion rate.
But, hey, at least I've got a good excuse! Pursuant to this particular post, I'm putting priority on cash-paying gigs in an effort to stop my savings from hemorrhaging. And I'm proud to say that these recent ventures have been either writey and/or editey, so I'm afraid that economic concerns and life-long wish fulfillment trumps free-content punctuality.
I do have a couple of fun things in the hopper, though, so it's just a matter of finding the time to hammer 'em out. Stay tuned.
Until then, here's a l'il sumfin', sumfin' to tide you over...
Spring is coming to Eastern Canada this year in much the same fashion that Winter is supposedly coming to Westeros. Nevertheless, as the snow recedes and wilderness paths once again become clear, I find myself trolling through the woods in an effort to repair my sun-deprived, ice-atrophied soul.
And what I'm finding there ain't cool.
A recent wilderness hike inspired the following goofy little pram:
If everyone knew where Paradise was, would paradise long abide with it?
When larvae and lapdogs and black lung persists,
Can anything hope to withstand this?
The meaning of that which sustains such a tract seems lost on all who repose here.
With yapping and squealing and dumb axes falling will heaven be purged in a leap year?
Aluminum afterthoughts, corroded spike hammerfalls,
Is there any limit to ignorance?
The murder of sentience for the sake of convenience,
Reveals our own dearth of intelligence.
Should you seek to bring gloom to some paths that are "groomed",
Why not turn your attention to bitumen?
There's a petrol-soaked fissure,
In wan Athabasca,
That requires your immediate attention!