son of the son of blog.

i used to do this regularly.  nearly every day i would spend idle hours expousing my insight and values on what was then, an unknowing public.  at one point, people actually paid attention.  when i stopped, those same people asked axed me “how come you stopped?”

i did you all a favor, people.  

what comes of this is unknown.  i lost my original blog to the demons of excess bandwidth.  it amounted to around 6 years of stuff.  owls. life. cynicism (hooray!) observation. bliss.  politics…why it was as though i had found a voice and the venue to voice it within.

of course,  owls are the profound component of my recurring nightmare  endeavors.  i can’t seem to shake them.  they are compelling and alluring.  like ones’ first love.  the first child.  the first six-pack of highly-hopped micro brew. 

sadly, i don’t think i’ve moved much further in life than where i was. 

i love that. 

now, with the gales of november september crashing against the rugged shoreline of lake superior and me having a poorly timed day off (i took it so i could have a long banding effort last night…alas rain and wind), i am going to see what becomes of this. 

the fall migration has thus far, been lackluster.  none of the early season “pushes” i have come to dread expect.  whereas in the early years of my homeownership, job responsibility was not a significant challenge, it now is and so, i must juggle owls with work with salsa canning and of course, there is always that damnable micro brew.

i’m not gonna get into a big chunk of blogging right now cuz i don’t know if i can sustain the effort without a big dose of literary cialis. 

we’ll see.

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About borealbilly

i am cursed by nocturnal self-awareness. View all posts by borealbilly

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