Being allergic to cats, yet having a profound fascination and love for all things Hemingway, I am confused as to which side to take in this story.

The Orbea has been reglued and reassembled, and saw some mileage in Indiana over the Christmas holiday. I was initially disappointed in having a repaired frame – one that I would always glance down at and wonder when the piece would crack again – but now I think all will be fine. I rode it a few times and it feels so perfect and smooth and clean that the whole experience has moved away from a disownment of a betrayer and loafer towards the now embrace of an old friend. All is forgiven and it rides again like a dream. If it breaks again it is still under warranty so no big deal. Take care of it as much as possible but ride it like you stole it till it falls apart. That is the plan.

Salma has graciously yielded and allowed a glimpse of the healed outline of her sleeve. It looks terrific. The design is no Mortiis riding a unicorn, but it looks wonderful nonetheless. Hopefully some of her sleeve incorporates a yin yang and a panther, preferably with the yin yang on the panther. All great tattoos do.

After organizing and bagging/boarding about 500 comics in Indy over the weekend I set aside a small pile for rereading. On tap: The New Frontier (haven’t reread it in a year – so wonderful), We3, Seven Soldiers (yep, I dug out all 28 issues plus the bookending issues 0 and 1 – I’ll blow through it all in a few days in the order Grant lists in the rear of each issue. The Filth read much better when time had passed and I was able to reread it in a flurry, though I loved Seven Soldiers to begin with), Darwyn Cooke’s Solo, and JLA:Classified 1-3 (yeah, the Grant Morrison arc). The net has been flooded with Seven Soldiers decompression articles and I really want to avoid their polluting effects before I reread it all again. Grant Morrison is very dense most of the time, but its always worth the time and there is really no way out of the tunnel but through the other side. 30 books here I come.


I am still living on applesauce more than I’d like, but I have resumed molar usage. No chewing of meat yet, but having made it through the experience without the horror of the whispered and threatened dry sockets I consider myself blessed.