cary head my, my, that was certainly a gratifying response
so we're just back from dumping two laundry baskets full of books in mailers on the counter of the local P.O., torrential rain and all, screw all phlegmatic Prius parkers clogging the lanes at  lovely Lakeshore Plaza strip mall, gotta love the USPS for making our little paradise of mail-order commerce possible, then home for bad Chinese and great rock and roll via the movie Pirate Radio on the TiVo, and what a great Dec. 17 this turned out to be, much better than lying on a gurney anesthetized pre-op like last Dec. 17, this time warm on the couch listening to great rock and roll from 1966 watching all those kids in England just like me with their transistor radios under their pillows just like me in Hollywood FL with my Panasonic transistor radio, Roby Young and Rick Shaw of WQAM in Miami, what an exuberant film with my favorite actor Phillip Seymour Hoffman what could be more life-affirming, and doesn't this beat last year's wheeling into surgery down the bright-lit hallways of UCSF Medical Center 500 Parnassus on a gurney in a gown with a phenobarbital grin, yes indeed, today I'm a happy, grateful cancer-free man ... plus even the noontime writing at Cafe la Boheme went exceedingly well, so well in fact that here's a little bonus track of madness (the novel is coming easier now, seems like I shook the jitters off and am having high fun again!)
cary head this will make no sense at all ... but it's kind of fun!

[on account of, you see, it's an excerpt from the novel being written in fits and starts according to mood and opportunity]

"I like money best when I don't need it," Lydia said.
"You never need it, Lydia," said husband John.
"Well, I could use some now," she said. "There's nothing in my account."
Thus it came to pass that Lydia and husband journeyed Audi-wise to the bank where the money was supposed to be and found that indeed there was no money in the Lydia personal account. There used to be lots of money in there all the time. She never counted. There was always enough.
This caused Lydia to sob small, choked little Lydia sobs, golden little mellifluous sobs worthy of a sobbing goddess, sobs that alarmed the banker who was on the verge of calling the FBI when David rushed in with a wheelbarrow filled with cash.
Consternation all around it goes without saying. Then much counting and
David acting like What Missing Money? "This urgent need for liquidity in the Libyan derivatives division. We had no choice. We actually made you a profit, Lydia. Sweetheart."
"Stay three feet back from her," said John. "That's the court order."
"No little squeeze? No little hug for your genius slightly mad business partner and muse?" David said. "No little peck on the cheek for your rescuer, solver of all riddles, magician of commerce and industry? Wait till you see the T-shirt sales. You're going to be very, very happy."
"As long as the money's there, I guess," said Lydia. "Come on, John. I hardly know who my friends are anymore."
Exeunt the Favors, John and Lydia severally and individually.
Back in the RV David was trying to stop shaking. "That was close, that was close, that was way way way too close."
A round Indonesian man wearing a large ruby on his lapel sat in the jump seat reading a tourist brochure for snorkeling in the Azores.
"Look at these fish, David! Have you ever seen such fish? The coral reefs are bleaching out. It's now or never, I'd say. Have you ever been snorkeling? It's like another world under there."
David is busy shaking. "Not now, Assange. Not now. I'm getting worse with the nerves. I can't handle the vertiginous thing. It's too vertiginous."
"Oh, it's not nearly vertiginous enough. We've only begun," said Mr. Assange. "Here, look into the ruby. What do you see?"
He removed the ruby pin and held it up to David's eye.
"My, my," said David. "I think I see Shakespeare."
cary head thanks to all, and to all a good night.

(the poodle has come in from the rain and insists I now go to bed.)