Best Metal Guitar Pedal

Cinquantenaire

almost two months. Absent.
Maybe it was the hit of the brow of the "fifty", stuff still to metabolize.
Perhaps it was only the need to write more, but not always the best ever at the most. Every ten lines to overtake.
Perhaps this period of uncertainty, on the road and the future on a trade that is hardly a trade, the great communicators who tell you that people want more, two quick sentences and so on, who cares if disjointed, and I will say they do not have the strength to try to change things, they do not know that people can also reaccustom to understand, to deepen. You can try.
Perhaps only the desire to be elsewhere, to end those famous tales, much less than forty-nine and much less important, where I wish there was something that Jones, Cheever, Lansdale, Jack, Carver, Ti Jean, Luciano, Miller, London, Steinbeck, Faulkner and I got robbed.
Perhaps laziness. Although insomnia.

Allocation.
Why a blog now, says Max, who knows, it's stuff gone.
not read it anymore. O
everyone reads his.
Abbene.
I write it myself.
What else do I know? (And then, do I know?)

almost two months. Absent.
I'm back. Fifty.