Hiatus to Creatus: Vic's book is due, shows will be few and far 'tween

Alas it is time to swallow the chimes and rehash olden times, whence a group of wunderkins without pretense flocked together, through a hole in the fence, away from the hologram of societal simulations and left behind their frustrations, pure to be picked by the wee goddess of dandelion dreams whose tears of beer and breath of voo stoked the fire conspire to do before doubt coulda shoulda putta damper on destiny that was once considered off limits according to the dictates of reason, but then unholy treason was sanctioned by suspension of disbelief or call it faith in failure to equal success, for if in this life the shit don't fly...I know I'm goin' places after I die.