"An undersea, unexplained mass sponge migration."

The migration from our previous home on the web is now complete -- or as complete as it's going to get, since I did leave some housekeeping detriment over there.

Suffice to say, I only brought the good stuff over the new threshold. Sure, that means the essays came over, along with some bread, salt, and honey because I'm superstitious. Anything dated before 08/2009 is from the previous location.

Welcome to Postmodern Occult (again).

Trapped like a kitten in a tuna can.

I intend to move the old journal entries over here, but I haven't done it yet. I am, however, being plagued by dreams of kittens trapped in oversized tuna cans. I have no idea what that means, but I feel sure that it means...something.

It probably means that I have neglected my writing duties for far too long. That's my guess.

Anyway, I'll move the older posts over here as soon as I catch some extra time, but I will just start posting here in the mean time. I think I got a little too serious, a little too caught up in my own thinky-ness at the old page, and although I still want to have a serious thought now and again, I feel it is probably best to keep it a little lighter. So, you know, dark grey -- not blackest black.

That sort of thing.

And now I leave you with an inspiring thought from John Keel:
"Some people just want to believe that there are nude space people out there somewhere."

I would add that some people are hoping for clothed ones, also. But sure, nude ones are on the agenda of many...