Conver(sa)(tia)tions with myself

The impulse to write has been building up inside for long enough. It has finally gathered ballast, passed a critical threshold - enough so that I have succumbed to the weakness of creating a blog for myself! Soon, the posts are going to rain down, not like the fat, assertive globules of a tropical monsoon, nor like the blinding flakes of a treacherous snowstorm in northern Siberia, but rather like the finer spindles of snowfall at zero degrees, uncertain whether to sting or tittilate, to fall wet or dry to the passive earth. When in Rome, Frankie, my son!