I can't go on, I'll go on.

Well, I like the general concept of blogging, but I rarely feel as if I have anything that deserves to be put out there into the great collective unconscious that is the internets, except, of course, for when I'm traveling. Travel days are so rich with stories that it's easy to pick one or two that are interesting enough to share. But what about my prosaic life? I don't know. Shall I report to you that I worked for 8 hours, came home, drank a glass of bourbon and ate some raw broccoli dipped in Hidden Valley Ranch dressing? Is that worthy of putting into type? Who the fuck knows.

But for some strange reason, I am now, two months after the end of my last trip, driven to type words and have them appear on the world-renowned Pomo Boho Hobo blog.