I’ve just returned from Hotel California after a couple year break, and this is what I know. The place really took a dump. It’s not in CA, but haunting like the song. I wrote one of my favorite blogues while there a few years ago, and had to reread it. No one enjoys my blogues as much as I do, and this one was especially good. (Just kidding. They are all especially good.) But the essence of the story was just wrong in real time. The charm was gone now, and I didn’t even have the words for the Point 2 version. But, that old blogue did get me hooked on those feelings. And helped me remember what I had liked about the place. For a brief moment, I was back there. And left me wondering if it had changed so much, or had I??? After posting this blogue for almost five years, I see what it really is. A speck in time. A random thought or feeling. One of my dearests was telling me that he likes the idea of journaling, but hates thinking that someone could find and read his innermost thoughts. I know! Horrible! People that do journal must have less spiderwebs and thorns in their head then I do. But I finally realized that only I remember what was going on with me at the time of a certain post. Journaling for Dummies or something like that. No wonder I find them even more fascinating than my millions of followers. If that’s even possible. I now get that I need to keep enlightening you, because it refreshes me. And drops me into that Boomlennial world we live in with just nonsense most of the time. Which is what life basically is, right? So now I have to eat these words or throw them into the fire. Nah. Not that deep. ‘Last thing I remember, I was running for the door. I had to find the passage back to the place I was before.’