The great american west calls: "What do you want?!" I answer.

Much like an electron, the whereabouts of my ponderings can be approximated, but never quite pinpointed. Tonight, they are in Southampton and with the seedy, twisted world of Hieroglyphed HandkerChief. Tommorrow night, they will be in Pheonix, and with the seedy, twisted world of geopolitics. Friday, in Tucson, with the seedy, twisted world of motion picture scoring. We know the electron is in that atom somewhere. We know my thoughts are seedy and twisted. You did not need me to point this out for you.

I will return to the nearest of easts Monday night, chemical chance willing.