Spent a fun couple of hours at a poetry reading last night, making that my first in about four years - which feels very weird, to have gone so long without saying those words in front of strangers. But my work was met with much praise and good feeling, and that's something. I feel . . . capable again.

And now I need to finish some stuff before next month, so I can keep in the ring. Inspiration's a mixed blessing.

Tonight, I think, my project will be the Updating of the Website, which is so long overdue that I can't remember who gets tied up. But there's a handful of items whose time has come to get thrown out into the great churning Yetzirah of the 'net, I think. And then the project will be the Writing of the Damn Comic Script, or likely the Staring at the Screen For Hours Like a Moron. Erm. It's a tough gig, this being brilliant.

And meanwhile, we're all waiting for my cousin Rifka's baby, due . . . well, anytime now. I've been trying since December to figure out what this will make me, with no real success, as I'm not familiar enough with the Ranks of Cousinage to know how to place this poor kid, or if he's removed, or what. With some sense of presumptuousness, I shall think of myself as an Uncle, and let it go at that until corrected.

Ah, young Nicholas, what an odd bunch of people you'll soon find yourself among, trying to figure out how the hell to get along with us. You have my sympathy, lad.