Do you recommend books to others? Do you like it when someone gives you an unsolicited reading recommendation? Do you actually read the books others have recommended or do you avoid reading the book? I personally like talking about the books I read. I mean, that’s one of the biggest points to this podcast, although I do like also talking about literary history. Well, the recommendation of books is the subject of this week’s podcast. And in case you are wondering, I, for some reason, resist reading books that others recommend. I’m not sure why, really. Because of this I will understand if none of my book recommendations are heeded. Perhaps it is an independent spirit that causes us to balk at someone else’s recommendations. I am always looking for something new to read, and yet when someone else recommends a book, I’m not sure what happens in my brain. Maybe it’s the whole “it wasn’t my idea” thing. Nevertheless, I am here this week to tell you about authors I always recommend to others As an aside, personally, I try to alternate between fiction and nonfiction, book by book, but it doesn’t always happen. Sometimes I will find an author I really like and want to read more without having to wait. Then again, that’s me. I don’t hold myself to this rule all the time. I also believe that enjoying what you read is more important than restrictions on what you read or in what order. It’s also important to know that you are not obligated to read a book you are not enjoying. Enjoying what you read is more than half the fun. Haruki Murakami is the author of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Kafka on The Shore, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. He is a Japanese writer whose novels, essays, and short stories have been best-sellers in Japan. His work has been translated into 50 languages and having sold millions of copies outside Japan. He has received numerous awards for his work, including the Gunzo Prize for New Writers, the World Fantasy Award, the Frank O'Connor International Short Story Award, and the Franz Kafka Prize. The first book I read by Murakami was The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. It’s a fairly long book at 607 pages. However, Murakami keeps the reader engaged and you forget the book is as long as it is. My favorite, so far, though, it Kafka on the Shore. An equally engaging story, and slightly shorter. Murakami’s stories have elements of magical realism, the human struggle with every day life, and a healthy dash of pathos. He is definitely in my top 5 of fiction authors. Shane Jones is the author of The Light Boxes, which I have mentioned in a previous podcast, as well as Daniel Fights a Hurricane, and the Crystal Eaters. He was born in Albany, New York. He graduated from SUNY Buffalo in 2004 with a B.A. in English I enjoyed all three of the books mentioned. They are weird and surreal although written in a literary style that makes them not too difficult to read. These books and more are available at Amazon and Thriftbooks.com Neil Gaiman is next on my list. I will admit, I am not the biggest fantasy reader. I do like the occasional steampunk story and read most of Robert E. Howard’s Conan stories. Neil Gaiman, however, I love reading. Prolific writer Neil Gaiman was born in Hampshire, UK but moved to the US in 1992. He currently lives near Minneapolis with his wife, musician Amanda Palmer. He is the author of Neverwhere, The Ocean at The End of the Lane, American Gods, Trigger Warning (Short Stories). His literary influences include H.P. Lovecraft, James Branch Cabell, Edgar Allan Poe, Michael Moorcock, G.K. Chesterton, among others. My first exposure to Neil Gaiman was the comic book/graphic novels of Sandman. The first book I read by Gaiman was Neverwhere, also the book I usually recommend to others. I became so engrossed in the story that I was oblivious when I came to the end of the book. I came to the last page and needed more. Isn’t that one of the signs of a good book? I also recommend American Gods (skip the television series) and, although it’s a kid’s book, The day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish, illustrated by Dave McKean. Next is Kevin Brockmeier. He was born in Hialeah, Florida and raised in Little Rock, Arkansas. He is a graduate of Parkview Arts and Science Magnet High School (1991) and Southwest Missouri State University (1995). He taught at the Iowa Writers' Workshop, where he received his MFA in 1997, and lives in Little Rock. His short stories have been printed in numerous publications and he has published two collections of stories, two children's novels, and two fantasy novels. Brockmeier has won three O. Henry Prizes, the Chicago Tribune's Nelson Algren Award for Short Fiction, Italo Calvino Short Fiction Award, the Booker Worthen Literary Prize, and the Porter Fund Literary Prize. Although I have only read Brockmeier’s two novels, at this point I plan on reading everything I can get my hands on. His writing style is empathetic, his descriptions make it easy to see exactly what or who he is describing. Although his novels have been described as speculative fiction, to pigeonhole Brockmeier would be an error of judgement. His work transcends labels. The first novel I read was Brockmeier's first, A Brief History of the Dead. To give you a hint toward the plot, Brockmeier quotes James Loewen's Lies My Teacher Told Me at the beginning of the book. The quote describes the belief of many African tribes that humans can be divided into three categories: Those still alive on earth, the recently departed (sasha), and the dead (zamani). When people die.they are sasha while people are still alive who remember them. When the last person remembering them dies, they go to the zamani and are then revered and recalled by name only. Are you intrigued? And then, there is Brockmeier’s novel The Illumination. And wow, what a story Brockmeier tells. It asks the question “What if our pain and injuries were the most beautiful thing about us?” It describes a universe in which human pain is expressed as illumination, so that one's wounds glow luminescent. I found it a very engaging story. I look forward to reading more of Brockmeier’s fiction. It is safe to say that most people know or know of Ray Bradbury. And if you don’t, well, acquaint yourself with this wonderful writer. Born in 1920 in Waukegan, Illinois, Bradbury moved with his family to Los Angeles at the age of 14. After graduating high school, he ended his formal education and found work selling newspapers. In 1943 he began his career as a writer. He was a prolific writer, authoring stories of science fiction, speculative fiction, horror, and even detective stories. His books are too numerous to list, but if you want a good start, read Fahrenheit 451, October Country, The Illustrated Man, or The Martian Chronicles. I don’t have any favorites, really. I like them all. My first exposure to Ray Bradbury, I owe to two of my junior high school teachers. Stuart Davis, my science teacher, read us the time travel story, “A Sound of Thunder." Steven Lather, our social studies teacher, showed a documentary about Bradbury in class. The last time I looked the documentary, filmed in 1963, is available on YouTube. I will post a link in the episode description. I am grateful to both Mr. Davis and Mr. Lather. On a personal note, a few years ago Valerie and I went to Chicago’s American Writers Museum, where there was a Ray Bradbury exhibit. In part of the exhibit, they had what I assume was Bradbury’s first typewriter, a 1940’s Royal. An adjacent placard encouraged visitors to sit down and type it. I don’t remember what I typed, but there was a sense of awe present. Then again, the whole museum felt like church. You may have noticed the authors highlighted on this episode are writers of fiction. Trust me, I will be back at a later date with non-fiction author recommendations. And there are definitely so many more fiction writers that I could recommend. As mentioned before this was edited and adapted from my recent podcast. If you would like to listen, just click here. Peace. Now go read a book!
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I turned sixty-one a week ago. Ten years ago, or so, I might have had doubts that I was going to make it this far. But I did. This isn't about my longevity so far, not really. It's not how long you live but what you do in your brief time here on Earth. That being said, it's okay if you've never figured out what you want to do when you grow up. You are allowed to change your mind at any time. Besides, being a grown up is vastly over-rated.
In the past 40-plus years, I have changed my mind a lot. Everything I did, though, I wasn't just a dilletante. I took the deep dive. I had been writing poetry since I was in high school, not that anyone knew since I rarely showed anyone. When I moved to Milwaukee, I became entrenched in the poetry scene there. After a few years, I grew bored with it. So I changed my mind. From there, I went from making hand bound books to re-learning how to draw and sketch, to printmaking. The printmaking lasted a few years, but eventually the summers became too hot for me to sit outside for hours at a time and still be expected to be sociable. Again, I changed my mind and no longer wanted to do printmaking. I veered again toward writing and this led to buying a manual typewriter. I was inspired by the typewriter poetry movement. I thought, hey, that's cool. I loved typing on a typewriter. I followed a Instagram user Black Adder Press, also a printmaker, who instilled the interest in me for typewriter poetry. But I couldn't stop there. Suddenly I wanted to learn how to work on typewriters. I sold my etching press and letterpress, which afforded me the money to be able to buy more typewriters. Suddenly I had fourteen, then 40, then....I stopped at just over a hundred typewriters. I guess I eventually became sick of looking at all the typewriters. I am currently in the process of reducing my inventory. I have changed my mind, again. So what is my new thing? As many of you already know, I started a podcast back in November called, yes, Coffee Before Pants. I have been doing it since October of last year and I think I have found a new passion. On the podcast, I focus on books, music, and film. The process of doing a podcast appeals to me because the majority of it is writing. And, harkening back to college days, it's kind of like being a radio announcer. And since I have turned into quite the urban hermit, well, the concept of doing a podcast from my home is totally appealing. And why am I saying all of this? So you will know that decisions you make for yourself when you are 18 don't always have to be the same decisions you make when you are 25, or older. Or 61. You don't have to have your life planned out years down the road. I found a new passion at 60. Valerie, who is 49, is pursuing her Masters Degree in Yoga Therapy. We often tell our niece, (who by the way, turned 21 today! Happy Birthday, Kyra!) that she doesn't have to decide what she wants to do right now. And even if she did, she is free to change her mind. Everyone is. Everyone is free to change their mind. Don't like your job Find another field you will enjoy. Hate what you're studying? Change your major. I'm sure many people wake up on any given morning and say to themselves "What the fuck am I doing this for?" That's when changes can happen, folks. You are free to change your mind. Peace. WinterWalk by Mark B Hill The clinic where I work has begun requiring all of us, even the support staff such as I am, to wear protective masks. This is due to not only an increase of Covid-19 but also of Respiratory Syncytial Virus aka RSV. I get irritated when I look at myself in the mirror. The daily mask wearing has made a mess of my long beard, causing it to tuck under my chin. It looks a little ridiculous, to be honest It's like if you parted your hair the wrong way and then put on a knit cap, leaving it there for a few days.
Irritated. Yes. I have worked so hard at not fussing with the beard. Not clipping or snipping the wild hairs. And now, at this very moment, I am considering trimming it down to a goatee. This is the wrong time of the year to have these thoughts. Usually, I consider this action when the weather warms in the Spring. But it's the end of January, in Wisconsin, and the Winter is far from over. I lay this directly at the feet of all those dismal anti-vaxxers and anti-maskers. I firmly believe that they are the reason that Covid-19 has not been completely eradicated. They are the reason that the variants came, with the resulting extra boosters. All this because of some fucked-up sense of freedom, but without any responsibility. I blame them that I will probably have to trim my beard. Jerks. I think to myself that it's also a mixture of ego and a weird since of materialism. Isn't that why people who are initiated into being Buddhist monks shave their heads? A gesture of letting go? I am more inclined to cut my hair short, I wear a hat anyway and it gets thinner as I get older. I resist shaving or trimming short the beard. Yet, I am not impulsive. Tomorrow morning, a Sunday, I might look again in the mirror while I brush my teeth and say to myself, "I'll leave it one more day." Monday may present a different frame of mind. It depends on how early I get up to get ready. Shaving in the morning, before I've had coffee, presents a few obvious dangers. I try to avoid sharp objects before my morning coffee. It's not that my hand is unsteady, it's that my vision is blurred. Every other month, Valerie and I fly to Laurel, Maryland via Reagan National Airport, where Valerie is pursuing her Master's degree in Yoga Therapy. On the months we don't fly there, her classes are virtual. I come along for the down time, spending most of my time there in the hotel, reading, writing, working on the podcast. This time, however, it didn't work out how I had planned.
We flew in Wednesday night and retrieved our checked bags. I had a carry-on, a travel backpack. We walked out to catch the shuttle to the rental car area. I put my carry-on on the bench and we waited. Then, I'm not sure what happened. We boarded the shuttle and half way to the car rental, I realized I had just left my bag on the bench. By the time we came back around, it was long gone. Stolen. I felt that I had experienced what could be described as a "cognitive lapse." It was less that I had just forgotten my bag, and more that I had forgotten that I even had a bag. I didn't occur to me until we were well on our way to pick up our rental car that I did have a bag, but it wasn't with me. Suddenly, my mind was full of a mix of panic and a sense of "what the hell is wrong with me?" After making certain that the bag was indeed missing, there was nothing to do at the time except to drive to Laurel and call airport security. I was, to say the least, devastated. Not just because of the loss of possessions, but the thought that there were signs of cognitive lapse. Valerie tried to reassure and comfort me as well as she could. "At least we are safe and most of what was in the bag is replaceable." The nest day, I called airport security and they assured me that no bag fitting the description I gave had been turned in. The advised that if any of the airport staff had seen the abandoned bag, the DC police would have been contacted and they would have swept it for explosive devices and/or drugs. What was in the bag, you ask? All the elements of my weekend that were to keep me occupied. My Kindle Scribe, my fountain pens, a book I was reading and planned to finish over the weekend, a pair of Bluetooth headphones, and a Lochby Field Journal (kind of a binder that holds 3 cahier notebooks with pen slots. There was also a travel espresso maker, the keys to both my car and our apartment, and my medications. All of these things are replaceable. I had to go two days without my medications, but those were eventually replaced. The one thing that is not replaceable is my journal. It was a 6 x 9 hardcover notebook and I had almost filled it. Reading notes, quotations, writing and podcast ideas, all gone. I did have my contact information written in the inside of the front cover. I, however, hold no faith that anyone would bother to put it in bubble mailer and ship it to me. But as Valerie reminded me, I came out of the whole thing a little worse for emotional wear, but was safe, relatively healthy, and alive. I spent the next day, while Valerie was in class, meditating and pondering about letting go. It was all just "stuff" I said, stuff that would eventually be replaced. I spent the Friday following looking for a new notebook, a cheap set of headphones (from Five Below, no less) and then I found a thrift store with a decent selection of books. With that I managed to get through the weekend relatively unscathed. We are back home now. I received my new Kindle Scribe and a new Lamy fountain pen. I found a decent shoulder bag and a couple hardcover journals. And we are home, safe and alive. The sting of loss will fade eventually. There will be new ideas, new opportunity to create. And lessons of mindfulness and of letting go. As far as the cognitive stuff goes, we will just have to keep an eye on it. It could be nothing, It may have been that I was just over-tired from the trip. I always tell my doctors, jokingly, that having open heart surgery about sixteen years ago made me a bit of a hypochondriac. Let's hope that is all this is. A Companion to Episode 9 of the Coffee Before Pants PodcastHere are links and cover art for the albums I featured on Coffee Before Pants podcast, Episode 9. The links will take you to Amazon.com. I'm sure you can find them on Spotify as well, but I no longer have a Spotify account. Kind of Blue- Miles Davis. Initial release 1959. Personnel: Miles Davis on trumpet. Julian "Cannonball" Adderly on Alto Saxophone, Bill Evans-Piano, Paul Chambers-Bass, Wyn Kelly-Piano. James Cobb - Drums and John Coltrane -Tenor Sax. Moanin, Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. Initial release 1959. Personnel: Art Blakey-Drums. Jymie Merritt-Bass, Bobby Timmons-Piano, Benny Golson-Drums, and Lee Morgan Trumpet. Cornbread-Lee Morgan. Released 1967-Lee Morgan-Trumpet, Jackie McLean-Alto Saxophone, Larry Ridley-Bass, Hank Mobley-Tenor Saxophone, and Herbie Hancock on Piano. Journey in Satchidananda-Alice Coltrane- Initial release 1971,with Alice Coltrane on harp, Piano, Cecil McBee-Bass, Majid Shabazz -Bells, Tambourine, Pharoah Sanders-Soprano Saxophone, Percussion and Tulsi on Tamboura Bags and Trane-Milt Jackson and John Coltrane. Initial release 1961 with Milt Jackson on Vibraphone, John Coltrane on Tenor Sax, with Connie Kay on Drums, Paul Chambers-Bass, Hank Jones on Piano. Straight, No Chaser-Thelonious Monk- Released in 1967 with Thelonious Monk on Piano (of course) Larry Gates-Bass, Charlie Rouse-Tenor Saxophone, and Ben Riley on drums. Wild Flower-Hubert Laws-First released 1972 Hubert Laws on Flute, Ron Carter on Bass as well as several others on strings. Song for My Father-Horace Silver-Released in 1964 with Horace Silver Piano, Teddy Smith and Gene Taylor-Bass, Roy Brooks-Drums, Junior Cook-Tenor Saxophone, Blue Mitchell-Trumpet, Blue Train-John Coltrane, initial release 1957-Personnel includes John Coltrane on Tenor Saz, Paul Chambers on Bass, Philly Joe Jones on Drums, and Kenny Drew on Piano. And guess who on Trumpet. Lee Morgan! Bird and Diz- John Coltrane and Dizzy Gillespie, Released in 1952, with Charlie Parker on Tenor Saxophone, Dizzy Gillespie on Trumpet, Thelonious Monk -Piano, Curly Russell on Bass. Mingus Ah Um-Charles Mingus, Released 1959 with Charles Mingus on Bass, John Handy Alto Sax, Shafi Hadi on Tenor Sax, Horace Parlan on Piano, Jimmy Knepper on Trombone, among others. Portrait in Jazz-Bill Evans Trio, released 1960, with Bill Evans on Piano, Scott LaFaro on Bass, and Paul Motian on Drums. Yep, that's why they call it a trio. And you can listen to the podcast by clicking here
Well, I guess this is my last post for 2023. I am looking forward to the coming year, remarkably. Except for the last few months, it felt like a shit show. I sincerely hope we can turn the bullshit away and have a great year. I feel an uncharacteristic optimism. Maybe I'm slightly delusional, who can tell. Right now I can tell you that I feel pretty awesome about the last couple of months. Most of you know, I started a podcast titled, of course, Coffee Before Pants. If you want to listed there's a link along the top you can click and on that page is a podcast player. Also, if you would be so kind, check out the merchandise page. It will redirect you to my RedBubble shop. It has been a pretty creative year, with more ups than downs. I changed my focus from typewriters to actually writing. I have a few irons in the fire, as they say, beyond the podcast and this website. For now, the irons are on a secret fire that only I know about. I'm not giving up all my secrets. I will definitely let everyone know when the time is right. How enigmatic, right? I am rambling and it is late. I always get my best ideas just as I am falling asleep. Most times I am too lazy or too paralyzed by lack of sleep, and those ideas are POOF, out into the ether. I tried setting up a voice-activated recorder app on my phone, but all I ever get is mumbled nonsense and snoring. Valerie bought me a new nightstand where I can place a notebook, just in case. It's the same law of nature that gets the bus you are waiting for after you've lit a cigarette, or your food comes right as you have to go to the restroom. You know what I mean. Placing a notebook guarantees you will not wake up with a great idea. At least it potentially helps with sleep. One secret I will divulge is that I am working on developing a YouTube channel. There are some things I want to share that are more suited for visuals. When the channel is ready, you will definitely know. None of this would be possible without Valerie. We marked our 19th year together, always the Sunday after Thanksgiving, the day we first met in 2004. She is my rock and the love of my life. I am ever grateful. I know she knows, but I like telling her anyway. My wish for you is that you find your groove in 2024. I hope you get to read a lot of good books, drink good coffee, and well, become the hermit you always wanted to be, if that be the case. Peace. I just had to!
It is Sunday morning and I am relatively awake. I woke at a reprehensible hour of the morning, which is annoying since I didn't go to bed until after midnight. So, please, bear with me while I clear the cobwebs with another espresso.
As many of you know, I started a podcast a few weeks ago. It's titled, of course, Coffee Before Pants. It just seems fitting. Each week I talk about books, authors, literature, and literary history. I have, so far, four episodes. Although they are a bit clunky, I am still pretty proud of them. They are going to improve once I figure out the ins and outs and what have yous. Yesterday, I learned how to use the Audiolab app, which will hopefully improve the quality of the recordings. There are several reasons that I feel a podcast is a perfect venue for me. One, I don't have to leave the apartment. I don't have sit in the miserable heat all day, as I did in art fairs. It's not as tedious as working on typewriters of which I am trying to purge). The end result of recording a podcast is very gratifying. So, I ask that you give it a listen. You can find it here on the website, on TuneIn, iHeart, Prime Music/Audible, Podchaser, and Podbean. Let me know what you think. And in closing, I want to share what could possibly be my new life philosophy They walk among us, these people who base their whole lives on fear. Fear of The Other, fear of new ideas, fear of history, fear of books. Yes, books. Books that might present an idea that goes against their beliefs. They rarely read these books out of fear they might have their beliefs challenged. They don't read them, and they don't want anyone else to read them either. So they organize with like-minded people. And these groups of people with their fear-based existence want to ban books. They call themselves crusaders, protectors. They are far from being that. Read the news. Book banning is on the rise in several states and it is one of many threats to our democracy. These crusaders attempt to remove and ban books from our schools, our libraries. They want to remove any book that makes them uncomfortable or otherwise offend. They are indiscriminate in their hatred, their fear. As much as I avoid comparing these people to Nazis, banning books is right out of the playbook. It wasn't just Nazi Germany. The American government has also attempted to ban books. During the McCarthy Era and the Red Scare, any book that was viewed as Communist was banned and, yes, burned. And it's happening again in these modern times. The whole idea of banning books, whatever the justification, must be resisted and fought against. The newest group of thought police is the ridiculously named "Moms for Liberty." They are on a rampant tear to ban books they feel need to be removed from schools and libraries. These include Salinger's Catcher in the Rye, Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale, and ironically, Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. And would you believe this narrow-minded group of zealots also want to ban...get this...the poet Amanda Gorman's The Hill We Climb! This is an ugly trend that needs to be actively fought against. It signals the ongoing rise of anti-intellectualism and Christian Nationalism. As William Burroughs stated in his "Thanksgiving Day Prayer," we are quickly becoming a "country where no one is allowed to mind their own business." The solution? Speak your mind and speak it loudly. Fight against the book bans by counter protesting. If your library is the target of such groups and Moms for Liberty, write letters to your local government and the library Board of Directors. Speak out. Speak out while you still have the chance. And of course, read whatever you want to. Let your children read what they want and take time out to talk to them when they have questions. Don't thwart their curiosity and eagerness to learn. It is them the future relies on. That future must be the freedom to read! For the list of books banned by Moms for Liberty click here. For more information on how to fight book bans, visit these websites
American Library Association Unite Against Book Bans PEN America I want to write about everything and all things. I want to write for and about the down-trodden, the maladjusted, the introverts, the mentally ill, the dispossessed. I want to write to incur pain if it means enlightenment in the end. I want to write about those who are spurned by society. I want to write about the things I want to know more about, to become a citizen scientist, a citizen philosopher, a citizen storyteller, a citizen poet. I want to write about the things which would make people refer to me as a social irritant. I want to write six days a week, all the time, with Monday being my day of rest. Even on Monday I would write but not because I felt compelled to do so, only that it is something to do. I want to be a rock for the forgotten, if they will allow it. I want to make people cry with my poetry, awe them with my fiction, and make them angry with righteous indignation with my essays. I want to make the scales fall from their eyes so that can see, feel, and speak the Truth. I want to rail against the darkness yet realize that the darkness is also my friend and companion. I want to write so that there is always the danger of a turd in society's punch bowl, a gob of spit in the face of tradition, the black ice under the feet of the government. I want to show that tradition is the collective laziness that prevents people from evolving as both a species and individuals. I want to write to celebrate and acknowledge and speak for both the dead who cannot defend themselves and the living that needs to speak up for themselves as well. I need to write because I must, as part of right action and good trouble. I need to write with the goal of being a force in nature, to be heard and to make peace with my own mind. It doesn't even matter who reads my words, I need to write to cut through the miasma of crippling self-doubt and blurred vision.
Wow. It's been seven months since I've posted anything. I have been, well, I wouldn't call it a hiatus, that suggests intent. I certainly didn't intend to be away from writing for this long. I have a lot of reasons/excuses. Stress, fatigue, periodic mild depression, and just your garden variety ennui. And, of course, an absence of initiative.
I have plans, though, for certain. In the coming months, I plan on several projects. I am investigating the viability of producing a podcast or a YouTube channel, or both. I'm working today with setting up a page or group related to this blog. I am also beginning purging some things. The goal is to transform the "studio" into more of an "office." I believe Facebook Marketplace and Craigslist are the perfect way to do this. And in case you are wondering, yes, there will be typewriters available. They will be "as is," meaning I haven't done anything to repair or restore them. I have over one hundred typewriters, many I will never work on. I look at the stacks of cases and automatically feel overwhelmed. And that is one thing I do not want to feel. Feeling overwhelmed due to a task is a huge initiative killer. If anyone knows people who buy whole collections of typewriters, send them my way. My email address is mark@coffeebeforepants.com It is going to be a process, I know. So keep an eye out for posts concerning this and other happenings. The coming of Autumn has certainly helped. I feel that a lot of creativity and productiveness is heading my way. |