Look at the Dust and Cobwebs, Oh My!

Has it really been this long since I last posted? Where does the time go? Well, there were only a few readers in the first place. But who could blame them for not coming back if there were no new posts.

During this downtime, I never stopped thinking, I just stopped writing. It just seemed like I was writing a letter to myself. Why call it a blog if it is just a diary?

But lets call it a 'journal' instead. Ya know that nobody gives a fuck about your journal until after your death.

Lots of famous painters/writers went dumpster diving and slept in alleys, dying penniless. Once they died, everybody just had to have one of their paintings. Now those paintings sell for $3 mil at the auction. The artist died a horrible death, but he would have been a millionaire if he could just stay alive to enjoy it. Everybody just loves them some Ernest Hemingway. That Truman Capote guy was a hoot, right?

Well, here is the thing. People collect things that are important to them and them only. I don't care to own an expensive original of (insert famous painter/writer here). I like originals just like the rich people do, but I don't have $900,000 dollars to buy it. So, I find myself looking at other things, things like rare golf clubs made out of hickory.