Thanks, everybody, for the recent comments. The hilarious thing to me is how unplanned all this was. If you'd asked me five weeks ago to write a book about my experience in the field of music journalism, first I would've helped you up off the floor and passed you a handkerchief for the bloody nose I just gave you, and then I'd explain to you that no publisher in this dimension would want it. By the way, just to fill you in, I finally sent a message to my bass idol, asking him if he would care to appear in the book. I explained the project and how I would use him as an example of how to deal with setbacks gracefully and with dignity. His gatekeeper initially refused to forward the message, asking me if I might want to rephrase the letter, because I used the word "rage" twice, and my description of "my obsessive pursuit of Scott Thunes" made me seem like a psycho stalker. He said the message was too intense to send to someone I barely knew. After much thought, I asked the person to forward the message as is, because I did feel such rage that it blew up my immune system, and I did "pursue" Scott Thunes, though not in a physical sense. I wasn't following him around in my car; I periodically asked him to let me help him write his memoirs, and I brooded about him. Eventually the gatekeeper forwarded the message. We'll see what happens. I don't think I was coming across as insane, but crazy people generally don't know they're crazy. Maybe I've been raving away like a lunatic for over a month now, and none of you have had the heart to tell me. That's okay. I'm still having fun, crazy or not.