Well, sorta-kinda, slightly.
After the NYC triumph of my surrealist (actually, I prefer to say Incoherentist) papier-mache puppet production of William (maybe) Shakespeare's Birth of Merlin, I've been layin' low and lovin' livin' in the land of Louisville. As I detailed in my look back at 2010, I took a year off from the frantic pace I'd been going at exponentially since 2005; stopping to smell the roses, and to drink the Four Roses.
However, I'm back in black like Saucy Jack this year, ready to rock and roll, 1918 style. But I need your help, Noo Yawkers. This is a wakeup and a shakedown to lend a hand and help me get this show on the road. Help me help you.
The numerologists say this year may actually be one of "intolerance and regress". Fortunately, I think numerology is a load of old applesauce, and I'm having roast beef for dinner instead.
(Makes telephone-shaped hand gesture to side of head, mouths the word "Call me".)
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