she needs to clip those excess strings off the head of her git-fiddle.... she might poke her eyes out, for cryin' out loud

My presence is felt years after my disappearance. Feelsgoodman.jpg

Bats, they are sick. I cannot hit curveball. Straightball I hit it very much. Curveball, bats are afraid. I ask Jobu to come, take fear from bats. I offer him cigar, rum. He will come.