I can't remember what day it is, but I can remember the feel of the air in the summer of '83.....weirrrrrrd.

I woke up this morning, unable to move my head to the right.

After about an hour of therapy (meaning, slowly turning my head back and forth) I was greeting by what seemed like the thunderous cracking sound coming from the vicinity of the right side of my neck.

Instant relief.

Seriously, I almost lit up a cigarette. But I don't smoke anymore.

I did take the Lord's name in vain a couple of times, though.

This incident was the high point of the day, so far.

In other news:

Surprise of surprises, who should query me over on the social networking site but my old friend Michael. I had written about him here a while back (November of '08, I believe) and lo and behold, there he was.

This morning, he flooded my mailbox with a ton of material I had written back when I was younger....I believe I wrote the sketches in the summer of '83, and they were a time machine written on paper. Once I got them printed out, I was able to transport myself back to a typewriter in the outer office of a radio station on West Washington Street in Marquette Michigan. I can even tell you that the paper was a terrible yellow, and this was far before computers were readily available. And the summer was fair, and the summer seemed to last forever, and oh, my GOD were we creative back then.

The radio station is gone, for how long I have no idea, but the building remains. And I have the proof of the creativity in the words on the printed page.

The sketches are about:

A death-row inmate asking for an impossible last meal.

An interview with a professional addict, who apparently can get addicted to anything at the drop of a hat; a chair, a microphone, an interviewer.

An advice to the lovelorn column, written by a trucker from Sarasota.

And I hope that Michael can still find copies of the sketch where the game of "got your nose" goes horribly wrong, or the Evil Mrs. Butterworth.

I am looking forward to hearing all about his life, and catching up after about twenty three years of silence.

In other other news:

Yes, I've committed to a reunion with some old War Buddies in November. This is all contingent upon me being able to get the time off. The wife was very supportive, but shows no intention of joining me on my trip down Amnesia Avenue. I hope for the best; good conversation, good food, and perhaps some karry-okee......and maybe bowling. And to catch up on what the hell has been happening in the last decade or so.

And with that, I'm out of here.