Yes, we're still alive, although we recognize that some of you out there might not be. We know. It's been months and since the last issue, many of you have been sitting in corners with a glazed look in your collective eye, slapping at veins on your arm chanting, more, more, more, while your family members and friends are sitting in a living room somewhere, sipping their tea and wondering what they can do to help you, because, really, you're just not yourselves. An intervention perhaps, like on TV. Or maybe they're planning to just lock you in a dark room, with a few cans of cold Campbells Cream of Mushroom Soup, a la Trainspotting.
Kindling can be addictive, is what we're saying.
Some of you may have moved on, certainly. Rehab, maybe. Maybe you did go the locked room route. Maybe you're reading stuff from our friends at Trnsfr, or Fiddleback. Maybe not.
But here's the point. We just stretched that metaphor too far. Kindling is not a drug. It's paper, with words. Sometimes the words are funny, sometimes the words are sad. What we're saying is, Hey, we're your pal. Come on back. Read us again and remember what it was like before this past summer where we just suddenly disappeared and then popped up again. In Charlotte. Yes, Charlotte, the one in the Carolinas (we're not sure which one). We know.
Anyway. Enjoy.
The Editors.
