Wednesday, December 28, 2022

"...Fire Sale!"


I am now posting on >>>> 

This due to tech problems with Blogsplot. 
The other page was/is where I put my stories. 
Now it'll have my deranged rants as well. 

So get over there.


Tuesday, December 27, 2022

"...I'm outta' Here!"


I'm moving over to my Book of Days Blog "Book of Days" (sidneyinhell.blogspot.com)

As I just posted to our dear long-time comrade and pal "Z" I'm moving. This since there's problems here. Blogsplot is fucked up. ...again. I can post new things here, but you'll only see the few items in the current page. Years of stuff is cut off. I can see it on my control panel. But folks can't. The whole right column with links to my other pages and past post is gone.

So yeah, I'm moving over.

I'll post new stuff here as a mirror of current things. However, it will only be the 4 or 5 items the page can show. However, these plus ongoing threads will be over on "Book of Days". So go over there instead. Swell. I always enjoy complications and Happy New Year to you and yours. It's going up into the 20's and 30's. A serious heatwave coming. I'll lay in hot dogs' fries and lemonade!

Btw the above issue of the New Yorker was issued literally the day before I was born. So the faeries work in mysterious ways...what with my move. That and the New Yorker was Twenty Cents and no sales tax! It's currently setting smarty pants cosmopolitan and their wannabees back $8.99 a pop!

That's $107.88 cent a year here in our fading year of 2022, CE
As opposed to $24. buck back in da year of da Lawd 1950, AD

If it weren't a gift subscription from a cousin, I'd be missing out on all those reviews of unwatchable experimental plays and adverts for zillion $$$ estates I could buy. I only really bother for the cartoons. I've a pal that does some over there. He did a faerie thing once as a nod to our being pals. Does this make me famous once removed? 

Friday, December 23, 2022



It was 56f/13c at noon it’s now 4:30pm and 24f/-4c.
At 9:00pm its forecast to be 9f/-12c. Brooklyn dusk from my steamy kitchen window. Sub-freezing Christmas weekend ahead.
Stay in keep warm.



I stay up to write or watch old movies.
As we move on we become more like cats.
We stare at spirits we eat we dream we sleep.
Love has no season no boundaries no fear.