Well, here I am, writing on a Sunday morning, because Mr. Mark Bakalor is a tough taskmaster and he actually thinks that someone will come here and be reading this. Most people I know are just arising, eating their Sunday breakfasts of bagels and lox, or pancakes, or omelets, or huevos rancheros, and reading their various and sundry Sunday papers. And yet, I am doing none of those things because I am sitting here writing this fershluganah blog. Well, I can tell you, it’s not going to be a long blog today, it’s going to be a short blog today because I too wish to have bagels and lox, pancakes, omelets and huevos rancheros, and I too wish to read my various and sundry Sunday papers.
Yesterday, as you know, Mr. Donald Feltham and I had Belgian Waffles. Did you know that Belgian Waffles only have eighty calories? Isn’t that good? Of course, when I got through putting the melted butter and the three pounds of syrup on them they had 1,080 calories, but that is neither here nor there nor even there nor here. We came up with some great ideas for our upcoming The Broadway Radio Show, which I will go into more detail about when there’s actually someone here reading this instead of eating bagels and lox and reading various and sundry Sunday papers.
For those who’ve been following these daily meanderings, I will tease you and tell you that last night Susan Gordon contacted me and we had a most lovely conversation. Isn’t that funny? For those who don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, merely click on the Unseemly Archive Button located at the top of every page.
Today I will be going over to my friend Mr. Grant Geissman’s house. Grant is a brilliant guitarist and has played on most of my albums, including my close personal friend, Mr. Guy Haines’ very own album. He has a program in his computer called Quark or something, and it allows me to see what my novel would look like when it’s formatted as an actual book. This is a very exciting thing. I cannot do that on my lowly laptop computer because I do not have Quark and even if I had Quark I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with Quark because these computer programs are all an enigma wrapped inside a black box floating in a black hole, at least to me they are. Oops, I think it’s time to click on that Unseemly Button below, don’t you?
I was very happy to see so many messages yesterday. That warmed the cockles of my heart, dear readers, oh, yes, it warmed the very cockles of my heart. Just what the hell are cockles of one’s heart? Does everyone have cockles of the heart? Can you have cockles of the feet? What the hell are cockles? Who made up this word and why? In any case, all those messages warmed the cockles of my heart and other organs and appendages, so please, keep leaving them (we even got a message from Susan Gordon, so if you missed it you know where the Unseemly Archive Button resides).
For those who visit All That Chat on Talkin’ Broadway, as of tomorrow you will see a brand spanking new handy-dandy banner ad for this very site. Isn’t that exciting?
Well, I must go get some bagels and lox, pancakes, omelets, and huevos rancheros, and I must read my various and sundry Sunday papers which will, of course, warm the cockles of my heart.
Lots of interesting things to write about tomorrow, so check back.