OK, so the BBC is spouting off about a man who's had a penis transplant. Donald Trump could be our next president. Bowie died. I actually did interpretive dance. These might be the four ponies of the apocalypse, but so be it. I love this ol' place. It's a special haven. It contains lots of great memories. But, whilst not throwing in the towel completely, it's just the breaks, and evolution. BirdOnTheMoon has been my longstanding home on the Intarwebz/Series Of Tubes circa Feb. 2002. It's May 2016.
Evolution happened guys. Social media killed the blog. Kinda but not really. I will hold forth at Point Be: Journeys To And From from here on out. But there will be activity on other sites on the network of the turtle-shaped human residing in the mountains of NC that will persist in the spirit in which the 'bird was begat. This isn't the last post per se. But looking at when the lost post was, jeebus creebus, it's time to go 2.0.
Things are good. Spring is exceptionally verdant this year. The world is in tumult, but we persist in the arduous insistence to say yes when the world says no, and to offer a moon-like gray tone when artifice offers only black and white. Feathers transcend expectation, boundaries flicker to nothing on the horizon. That which you've done is what you've meant to do, not what was scripted.
You danced, really fucking danced, at last.
filed under: from the birdy's beak blogged: 00.14 Tue, 17 May '16