dancing the wallatamba

Gooooooooooood morning, cyberworld.

I am up and mobile. The newspaper is in, as are the empty garbage cans (I want to give a Nobel prize to whomever invented the plastic garbage can...I recall when metal cans made trash day a loud and inconvenient time). I've checked the headlines on CNN (wow, Lou Dobbs can lay it on, can't he? I haven't seen a legitimat journalist whack a President like that in decades...), sorted through my emails and even doublechecked hit volume on my website.

Goals for the day: hmmm...survive, prosper, fall in love, write something immortal. Fight a battle that I'm going to lose but was worth winning, on someone else's behalf. Finish this week'd podcast later tonight and start the promotion process for it to be available to listeners, tomorrow. Ponder last night's "LOST" episode.

I haven't done a television interview since I left Mississippi (thanks, WLOX) or a radio spot since California (KDON and KBTU, as I recall)...maybe I need to do some local media. I've been told I have a face for radio (old joke). I admit I find it a bit wounding when a local event is put on for local artists (Morgantown or Monongalias County) and I am not even approached. How different it is here, rather than in the South or California, where I was sought out. It's not humbling, its just saddening. So much resource is wasted by the subcultural insularity. I know dozens of local poets, musicians and creative artists who still scratch their heads about it...Michael Paxton was right.