Recently, I gave my battered old Dell to this fellow in Indiana and he did a data retrieval and I put everything on an external hard drive. You might recall an incident several years ago where I had a spasm and moved my Photos folder into someplace unknown, and I've slowly been sifting through the 7,000 photos (!), many of which I do have, but not the exact variation as shown here, such as Greg Loudon's 2000 shots by the el or the 2006 shots for the Fiends by Torchlight cover. The same for my niece Grace and the great Buddy the Mitch. I might put a few more of these posts up, we'll see.
Never mind the stupidity in how I lost my commonplace book (a term I use because Karl Edward Wagner used it to describe his notebooks), it is gone. Left on the floor of the Jackson Street subway, 7:26 PM last Monday. I know this from a phone call I made, the number having been in the book. I had that thing filled up with sections of Proactive Contrition, several stories, everything has already been typed up, be it fragments or entire stories. And so it goes. The story of my owning the commonplace book now becomes the story of the next person reading the crazy thing. And likely looking over his shoulder as he waits for the Red Line at Jackson.