I've been back from Vietnam for two years. Shinizzles of events have occurred since that fine day my plane landed on the ground of Yamerica: After asking my wife for her blessing, I married the (other) mammal of my dreams, mister Michael T. Hensley. Together we made an explosion of paintings and created an emotional garbage disposal service. We planted food in the yard and ate every bit of it. We traveled to new places and got lost more than once. And... we made the mammal that is now growing inside of me.
I sniffed armpits and sang songs about abandoned cars. I finished my first novel. I ran 36 miles. I met 17 people (in the flesh) I never knew before. I hired backup singers to sing to me in traffic. I made out with trees. I began to write a musical about one of my average days. I watched the moon wax and wane. I named my toes. I sewed scrotums and tits and labia. I climbed mountainous paths and floated above parrot fish. I spent several sparkly hours with my dear friends and fambly. And and and!