It's been so long since my last entry that I forgot how to access blogger. And, when I tried to put Sinatra's photo in here, the process is different than before. What a mess.
I'm about 2/3 of the way through rewrite of novel The Porn Writer now. I keep sending out stories and poetry.
Why do I mention, Sinatra? Lately, I've begun to carry several CDs in the Civic of music from my childhood, teens and twenties. Trying to reawaken an old self for, hopefully, creative purposes. Pete Seeger, Simon and Garfunkel, hits from 1941 when my parent's divorced and I turned 4. Sinatra of course. And Barbra Streisand too, but, you know what? She sounds trite and much too cutsey. Sinatra and the others hold up. I know Dylan ought to be in the mix too, but I don't have one of his CDs.
As I announced in another venue, my prostate cancer remains in my prostate even thought my PSA made a leap. Just had bone and torso scans that came up clean. Feel energized to keep working after some falloff of energy.
