Communique No.1 (It’s Rats on the Run).

I got sick of the view. Office windows and spreadsheets launch into my dreams. Paunches and dustballs have started to gather and I’ve begun to mold to the shape of my seat. A close shave too close to a future in suits and it doesn’t quite sit with my senses.

15 years in Nottingham, England. That’s plenty of time for a city to shrink. Time enough for a name on every street corner. Time enough for mistakes and some could-have-done betters. Time enough to make people to miss and enough to make some who’ll be gad to get rid.

Get back to gigs. Get back to reviewing. Used to fill every hole small enough to crawl into. Time to fill eyes and ears with all sounds that I can.

Get moving. Start moving. Keep moving. Sell house and quit job and skip country. Got a oneway flight booked to string of wherevers and the rest I’ll fix up on way.

It’s rats to the ratrace. It’s Rats on the Run. Reviewing what happens from Scratch.


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