A cellarful of noise.

What’s it like being a rock n’ roll star?

Well, I can’t tell you firsthand. But I can tell you what it’s like being a legend in one’s own basement … and tonight, I think I will.

Two years ago this week I set up my Bandcamp account as a precursor to releasing my “first solo album” — a project I’d bullshat about for years. It was a fun stretch and an interesting challenge for me, even if it didn’t do much for anybody else.

I’ve now released four EPs — each one weirder than the last — which you can read about here, here, here and here. And on the two-year anniversary of the whole trip, I thought I’d lift the curtain on Bandcamp’s stats feature and write about how my oeuvre has performed.

I know. Blogging about one’s Bandcamp page is the 21st-century equivalent of showing people slides from your vacation in Worcester. No one gives a damn about what I’m about to tell them.

Still, I think a case study of 21st-century amateur music-making might be of interest to someone out there. If you declare yourself a genius, hang out your shingle, and salt the Interwebs with a few examples of your vision, how much — or how little — can you expect to happen?

Well, about this much …

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Plays: The 30 songs on my four EPs have racked up a total of 314 plays — not quite one every other day over the past two years.

Of those plays, 77, or 25 percent, are considered complete, which means the listener got at least 90 percent of the way through. 160 plays, or 50 percent, were partial, which means the listener got more than 10 percent of the way in but less than 90 percent.

And the remaining 77 listens are classed as skips, which means the listener failed to get 10 percent of the way into the song. (Needed more cowbell, I guess.)

Four of the 10 most-played songs came from the first EP, Summer Games, which is also the most conventional of the four.

And Number One on the Kurt Blumenau hit parade by a solid margin is “Art Thief,” the featured song from that EP.

(As for the least popular … well, there are 30 songs, but Bandcamp says only 28 of them have been played at least once. So there are two songs out there that no one’s ever dared to listen to. I think they are two songs from the most recent EP, The Midnight Loneliness of the Sunflower, which feature fire sirens overdubbed loudly over the music.)

plays# # # # #

Buzz: This is Bandcamp’s term for the number of visits to my site. And wouldn’t you know it: I’m at precisely 1,000 visits as of this writing. If I’d known I would have iced some champagne, or thrown the TV out the hotel-room window.

I suspect a vast majority of these come from ‘bots of some sort, because it’s common for me to get visits but no plays.

It always seems weird to me that a human being would navigate to a Bandcamp site and then not listen to any of the music. That’s kinda like figuring out how to get to a restaurant across town and then not going in. So, I figure something other than sentient humans accounts for most of my traffic.

A few other random tidbits about my buzz, y’all:

29 visitors came to my site from the various blog posts I’ve written about my EPs.

26 visitors found my music by searching for tags I used (things like “Allentown,” “Stamford,” “avant-garde,” “french” and “diddley bow.”)

Five visitors got there from Bandcamp’s Best Sellers feature. (As you’ll see in a moment, nothing I’ve done can be called a “best seller” in any sense of the phrase. I think the feature can be filtered to show what’s hot in the preceding day or week; and when my EPs were brand-new and had moved a copy or two, they might have qualified for such a page.)

Three visitors reached me through Bandcamp’s New Releases feature, which is kinda cool. It seems like the digital equivalent of pulling an unfamiliar but intriguing record out of the New Releases bin at a vinyl store.

– Finally, one visitor got there by searching Bandcamp for “Kurt Blumenau.” Not sure who they were, but it’s nice to know that somebody out there accepts no substitute.

Buzz# # # # #

 Sales/Downloads: Doesn’t matter how brilliant you are if you don’t move the units. Just ask Big Star, right?

Well, I’m still waiting for my first platinum record. As of tonight, I have drawn 16 downloads, of which seven were actual sales. (All four of my EPs can be downloaded for free, that being what they’re really worth.)

In the City of Churches and Cannons and Hope’s Treat sit atop the hit parade with five downloads each.

None of them are stronger in commercial appeal than the others, though: Three of my four EPs have two paid downloads each. (In last place, with only one paid download: Churches and Cannons.)

I can account for about 10 of those downloads. My dad downloads a copy of everything I do, or at least he has so far. A former college buddy accounts for one or two, and the guys in my former high school band account for three or four more.

But there are probably five or six that I have no idea where they went … which is maybe what I dig the most.

I like to think of my Bandcamp page as a modern version of throwing a bottle into the ocean for someone random to pick up.

Even if they throw it back in again, I’ve still reached them; and who knows but maybe they liked it?

sales# # # # #

Finally: The Map function on all these graphs is only for those who buy the fancy Bandcamp package, which ain’t me, so I can’t report on that.

But, you might have noticed an option called Defender on the Plays graph, maybe eight hundred words or so ago.

It is exactly what it promises: Click it, and it turns your Plays chart into a playable version of the classic video game Defender.

I might never attract much of a musical audience … but I’m getting pretty good at zapping the aliens.


I don’t hear a single.

It looks like I’ve finally made my Satanic Majesties Request, or maybe my Self Portrait — the album that makes people shake their heads and say, “He’s lost the plot.”

My latest Bandcamp effort, The Midnight Loneliness of the Sunflower, has stalled out with fewer downloads — and, I think, fewer listens — than any of its three predecessors.

Apparently, fire sirens and machine-translated French lyrics just ain’t what the music-loving public wants in the year 2015.

(Give it time, I say. By the year — oh, let’s say 2037 — I will be regarded as a genius, ahead of my time in my ambitious fusion of otherwise unrelated elements.)

Bandcamp’s inscrutable popularity rankings currently list The Midnight Loneliness as the eighth-most-popular recording with the tag “Allentown.”

Which says little, really, except that the music-listening public doesn’t seem to like recordings tagged “Allentown” any more than it does fire sirens.


The Midnight Loneliness is also currently the 80th-most-popular Bandcamp recording with the tag “french.” I can only assume that sound I hear is Vercingetorix weeping from beyond the grave.

The good news? Well, you won’t get to listen ’til late in the year, but I’m already working on tracks for a second recording of atonal diddley-bow solos.

Yeah, next time around I’m gonna give the people what they want.

The sunflower.

Today’s post, in two-part summary:

1.) I do not speak French.

2.) I invite you to hear and enjoy my new album, The Midnight Loneliness of the Sunflower, which was recorded entirely in French.

# # # # #

A little more context, perhaps.

Over the past year-plus I have been confronted by a gradual slipping of my communications skills. This is a concern, as these skills are at the heart of both my job and my leisure hobbies.

– I don’t think my writing and other communication at work is as sharp as it used to be. It still gets the job done, but not very imaginatively.

– My inspiration for this blog and my other blog has very much dwindled. I don’t write for fun nearly as often as I used to, and when I do, I don’t do it well. (I have continued to write the other blog on a weekly basis, but only because that’s the pace I promised the readers … and in any event, that blog’s going bye-bye in a few weeks.)

– I feel less and less interested in sharing my opinions on anything with the world. I am not culturally deep enough to have much of interest to say; my perspective is lacking. Plus, no one gives a damn, really.

– I find that my ability to remember words and facts is not what it used to be. I can’t always find stuff on the tip of my tongue. (It’s not sliding enough to make me worry. And in some ways it might be healthy: I’m consciously trying not to be a know-it-all any more. Still, I find it mildly frustrating, and at times it poses a minor block to my ability to communicate.)


Faced with these assembled setbacks, the idea of recording an album in a language I do not speak seemed oddly appropriate, appealing and potentially therapeutic.

It summoned new kinds of inspiration, while allowing me to throw conventional forms of inspiration out the window. It took hold of my imagination and lifted my spirits, which in and of itself was worth the effort.

The original idea was for a group of lulling, lilting bossa nova tunes with lyrics whispered in French — a language I took a quarter-century ago, vaguely remember, but have never used.

Real bossa nova guitar requires chops I can only dream of. So the project mutated. Some of it is Latin-influenced; some of it is not.

Midway through the project, I also decided to spice up the gentler acoustic tunes with a brassy layer of fire alarm. These alternative presentations appear at the end of The Midnight Loneliness, and I hope my listeners will enjoy them as much as, if not more than, the originals.


I recognize that The Midnight Loneliness will not be amusing to anyone who actually speaks French. They will find any number of mispronunciations, not to mention lines where Google Translate — yup — handed me phrasings no real speaker of the language would use.

I am not bothered, and I hope they can find a way around their expectations and not be bothered either.

It was not my goal to pass for an authentic French speaker (or lyricist). If I had wanted that, I would have taken the necessary steps to pursue it, like taking a refresher course in the language and finding a more trustworthy translator.

Being an amateur, with all that entails, was more fun — and much more in tune with the curious spark that led to this recording in the first place.

The Midnight Loneliness of the Sunflower, like my earlier recordings, is available as a free Bandcamp download. The lyrics, in French and English, can be read on the home page if you want to know what’s (more or less) going on.

So check it out. Consider downloading it, even. That’ll make me happy, and downloading doesn’t obligate you to actually listen.

(I thought about offering a prize to anyone who emails me a screenshot showing a Midnight Loneliness track playing on their iPod, iPhone, iTunes or other audio player. I don’t really have any prizes beyond gratitude … but if you listen, send me a snapshot anyway.)



Top of the pops.

Another day has passed, and Hope’s Treat has further cemented its place in the hearts of the American people.

As a follow-up to yesterday’s post on this subject:

– The experimental EP I cooked up by manipulating 70-year-old home recordings of my grandpa’s piano playing is currently the sixth-most-popular Bandcamp recording with the tag “Allentown.”


Hope’s Treat is presently the third-most-popular Bandcamp recording tagged “Stamford.”

Almost 30 years after he moved out of town, Bill Blumenau is an overnight sensation.


– And finally, Hope’s Treat leapt a rousing 200 spots, currently ranking No. 174 among the most popular recordings tagged “Connecticut.” Instead of page 10, it’s now on page 5.

(The folks in Walnut Shitstorm, for what it’s worth, are still mired on page 9.)


Now, lest this post be misconstrued, let me address some questions my Four Readers are probably asking:

– I’m not gonna keep posting these updates every day. I think they’re getting old too.

– I’m not really that interested in the “chart performance” of my noisy little EP as compared to everyone else’s noisy little EPs. These popularity rankings could be generated at random by goats, for all I know, and I don’t put as much stock in them as I’m probably making it sound.

(Even if I did clearly understand how the charts were generated, they’re still only measuring one tiny slice of one music site. Having the third-most-popular Bandcamp recording tagged Stamford is sort of akin to having the third-most sacrifice flies in Stamford Little League.)

Still, I have a bit of chart geek in me. And it’s kinda fun to play at the chart-geek thing when it’s your own name on the chart — no matter how obscure the ranking might be, or how small a pool you’re swimming in.

Plus, with the burst of initial interest in Hope’s Treat wearing off, today’s placements are probably about as high as the EP is going to get. I think those who are going to find it have found it.

So I’ll enjoy the high-water mark, however dubious and paltry it might be.

Once a week, and you know where all your favorite songs are.

I’m number 374! (In Connecticut, that is.)

I managed to convince one or two people to download Hope’s Treat, the experimental EP I wrote about yesterday.

The workings of Bandcamp’s most-popular ratings are unknown to me. A quick Google search suggests others don’t know exactly how they work either, except that they seem to be based on sales, not plays.

Still, I thought my brief burst of success might translate into an appearance on one of the most-popular pages.

And sure enough, Hope’s Treat currently ranks as the 374th-most-popular Bandcamp recording with the tag “Connecticut.”

(It’s tagged Connecticut because that’s where my grandpa made the 1940s-vintage piano recordings that I molested for the purposes of my experimental EP.)

How did I calculate the number? Did I rely on one of the fancy tube-glowin’ “computers” Casey Kasem’s team used to use to calculate 1970s American Top 40 countdowns?

Naw, it was simple. Each page displays 40 individual recordings (be they full-length albums, EPs, or whatever.)

Hope’s Treat, as of this moment, is on page 10 … so there are 360 recordings ahead of it. And it’s the 14th recording displayed on page 10. Hence, No. 374.

Sadly, I am a few places behind Walnut Shitstorm’s A 3D Map of Poland. I know now what it was like to be John Fogerty and have “Green River” stuck behind “In The Year 2525” for all those weeks.

Art is cruel.


Edit: But wait, it gets better! Hope’s Treat is currently the 13th-most-popular Bandcamp title with the tag “Allentown.” It’s on Page One of the listings and everything.

Dude! I’ve got a record in the Top 20.

Where’s the champagne?




Shameless self-promotion.

Dunno if the three people who read me here also read my other blog, so I’ll put in a quick plug for the exciting action goin’ on over there.

Today I posted the results of a project that I think is hot shit, even if no one else seems to agree:

Given a batch of 70-year-old home recordings of my grandfather playing piano, I digitally edited, treated and reassembled them into a series of nine short ambient/experimental/avant-garde song-things.

These have been posted to Bandcamp as a choose-your-own-price download called Hope’s Treat.

If you wanna read the long but reasonably entertaining story behind Hope’s Treat, click here.

If you’d like to skip the long story and give a cursory six-second listen to two or three of the songs, you can click here instead.

If you’d rather not be bothered, and would prefer to go out for fried chicken instead, that’s a third option.

Choose wisely.

(I suggest spicy fries on the side. You gotta sin to get saved.)

Slobber from the north.

Back from vacation, and back to listening to music. (I expect I will return to the old ballgames sometime over the winter.)

And what are we ringing out the summer with? Oh, we’ve got a winner this time.

A few months ago I got put onto Out of Print Moncton, a Bandcamp site that collects music issued in the ’90s by little-known local bands in the Moncton, New Brunswick, area.

Most of the releases were cassette-only. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think some local scenester had simply emptied out an old box of tapes, digitized the tunes and slapped ’em up as free Bandcamp downloads to prevent them from disappearing forever.

(The music, while sludgy at point of origin, sounds too crisp to be coming off well-worn old cassettes. Perhaps the person behind the website is the local sound guy who mixed all the stuff and still has master tapes lying around. I don’t know.)

Most of the music appears to be punk, which is not a genre I much go in for. I understand the release of energy and all that … but really, 99 percent of all punk bands sound the same to me.

If you like the punk stuff on Out of Print Moncton, there’s probably a band playing in your town tonight that sounds like that. Go see ’em and buy their tape.

But amid all the punkstuff is a winner. Two winners, actually, a cassette and a CD release, performed by a bunch of grunge-metal knuckle-scrapers who called themselves Mood Cadillac.

Mood Cadillac, apparently, was one of those bands whose members have been in 40 other groups … some of which loom larger in local history than Mood Cadillac ever did. There’s probably some Monctonian reading this thinking, “Why is he writing about Mood Cadillac, and not about (fill in name of longer-lasting/better-known band)?”

One listen to Mood Cadillac’s monomaniacal sub-Sabbath slobber, and you too will understand.

We’re talking stringy-haired guys in a basement on the salt-kissed edge of nowhere, playing the simplest possible riffs with the maximum possible fuzz, total commitment, minimal audio fidelity and no subtlety at all.

(Mood Cadillac’s music reminds me that it has been far too long since I listened to Vincebus Eruptum, if that further clues you in.)

Guitarists Jody Perry and Russ Payne have joined the likes of Leigh Stephens, Mick Ronson and Red Album-era Mark Farner in my personal pantheon of sleazy-does-it guitar heroes.

Lead singer Gunther is kind of overmatched by all the fuzz, and doesn’t have a metal-god voice to begin with, but does his best to keep up. I’ve come to kinda like him — much more than I like Ozzy Osbourne, another frontman with a regular-joe set of pipes.

Mood Cadillac’s two releases — 1997’s Big Ol’ Dirty (released the day it was recorded, according to Bandcamp) and 1998’s Mood Cadillac — fit comfortably onto a single CD. In my burner, anyway, they combine at precisely 69 minutes in length.


Anyway, here’s a sample from the second album, in which our heroes stumble in and out of 7/4 time without knocking over their beers.

If you like it, go to Out of Print Moncton and snag your own copy. And keep the riffs alive.

From the Valley: “Summer 2013,” the Coven.

The latest in a series of reviews of Lehigh Valley-area online music releases.

Somewhere in south Bethlehem, there’s a house that’s going to live a long time in the memories of the people lucky enough to know where it is.

Its inhabitants call it the Coven. And it’s hosting shows all summer by independent bands from the Lehigh Valley and beyond.

(At least, this is what I’ve deduced from the interwebs. It could be an elaborate fiction meant to trip up outsiders like me — like that fake list of Seattle grunge slang the New York Times fell for back in ’92. Yes, perhaps they will be swingin’ on the flippity-flop down at the Coven this summer.)

Anyway, this past week, the folks involved in the Coven posted a 12-song compilation of the bands slated to play there, like a postcard from the happening. (The weather is beautiful; the tunes are bitchin’; wish you were here.)

So what’s on the menu?

– The first three songs (by Frameworks, Voyage in Coma and Dead Gods) make it clear that there’s gonna be a fair amount of raw-throated shrieking going on at the Coven this summer.

I wrote in my last post that I personally don’t like that style of singing; and in the last two days, my opinion hasn’t changed.

Still, the songs’ instrumental touches kept me listening.

Voyage in Coma’s “Predation” melts down at one point, sailing almost beyond key and pitch into a riptide of thrashing instrumental energy. It only lasts 10 seconds, but it’s great while it’s there.

And Frameworks’ “Old Chokesadds a mournful-sounding, horn-toned keyboard line and sleigh bells into the mix, with positive results.

– It’s probably no great surprise that the poppier tunes grabbed me more than the thrash did.

Ringing pop — some hard, some soft — is well-represented on the Coven’s playlist, with Prawn’s college-rocky “Praxis,” Tiny Teeth’s pop-punk “Shapes” and the Infected Flies’ “Astro Pastro Zoom” all carrying the banner in memorable ways.

“Astro Pastro Zoom” (no, I don’t know what it means either) is my pick hit among the more melodic tracks, combining Hammond organ, a laid-back-to-the-point-of-jazzy rhythm section, and charming schoolboy lyrics. (Is “I could use a fairy-tale specialist / To help defeat the trolls of Santiago” the lyric of the year?)

– Actually, I take that back. The Tallboys’ “Manhattan & Driggs” is my favorite tune here — an eighty-second acoustic strum-along driven by a rowdy, scuffling snare-drum rhythm that’s implied as much as it is heard.

(“We go outside / We share a smoke / We ruin our throats / With everything we do” is another great line — one of those tossed-off bits that is either subtly profound, or says absolutely nothing. The best kinds of lyrics, those are.)

– A couple singer-songwriter types are scheduled to drop by the Coven as well.

Most notable among them are Alison Lutz, whose love lament “On My Back” I would have liked just fine except for my aversion to ukuleles, and Marco Polio’s “The Struggle,” a firsthand description of — mental illness? drug addiction? general failure to thrive? — distinguished by its singer’s unsettled Lou-Reed-meets-Fred-Schneider vocal quirks.

I can’t direct you to the Coven; you’ll have to do your own research. But I can tell you, based on this mix, that it sounds like a good time.

The Coven’s Summer 2013 mix album is available as a free download here.

Making music.

The short version:

It took me almost 40 years to finish, but my first solo album has been released to the world.

(It’s not really an album, actually. At six songs, it’s really an EP. Just to be precise.)

No, seriously. I wrote and recorded a batch of songs and put ’em out online for anyone to download and listen to. Humor me, and sit through my manifesto, and I’ll tell you how and where.

The long version (pack a lunch):

Pop music blogging is all well and good.

But at its heart, it’s a reactive exercise. You’re discussing or debating something somebody else created. Whether you’re shredding it or singing hosannas to it, someone else is still doing the hard work, and you’re riding on their back.

Over time, that’s started to grind on me.

I think from time to time of Matt Resnicoff, a talented writer whose work used to appear regularly in the Guitar Player and Musician magazines I read as a teenager in the late 1980s and early ’90s.

(Resnicoff is most frequently remembered for a circa-1991 Musician cover story in which he depicted Eddie Van Halen as a drunken, irrelevant one-trick pony, scared to go outside his comfortable musical pocket. The ensuing 20 years have only confirmed the accuracy and prescience of Resnicoff’s vision.)

As it turned out, Resnicoff was also a skilled guitarist and producer, and he quit the writing scene to go into music. I don’t know the guy, but from what I understand, he seems to have decided that a life spent in musical creativity was preferable to a life spent sitting on expensive leather couches, talking to other people about their musical creativity.

I don’t think I’ll quit music blogging the way Resnicoff quit writing. As my friend Jim Bartlett, an excellent music blogger, likes to put it: “Gasbags gotta gas.”

But I liked the idea of sticking my neck out, and balancing the ledger a little bit, and getting some sort of semi-original creative work out there to counterbalance all the time I spend writing about other people’s efforts. Let everyone else have an opportunity to pick on me if they want.

Of course, I know that six scratched-together songs do not really even the score. Thirty years from now, people will not be discussing my lyrics or picking apart my choice of cover art online, the way music bloggers like me do to world-famous artists. I doubt two dozen people will listen, if that.

But, no one can accuse me of merely being a spectator who second-guesses others while producing nothing of my own.

Plus, making my own music has been a running joke/personal reference for years and years and years — going back to high school, the last time I was in a regularly practicing and performing band.

I’d come across a funny or unusual phrase — in a news story, say, or in conversation — and quip, “There’s the title of my first solo album” … thinking each time that, hey, wouldn’t a recording project be a new and interesting personal challenge?

So, years later, I finally bit down and did it.

# # # # #

On the other side of the ledger from Resnicoff is a local musician I once knew. (I’m not gonna say whether “local” was the Lehigh Valley or somewhere else, to spare the poor guy some embarrassment if he stumbles across this.)

This guy had recorded a solo album, and I ended up with a copy. And it was … well, it was dreadful.

The guy couldn’t sing, even in a Dylanesque bad-but-good way. He was playing a poorly tuned 12-string acoustic guitar. The fidelity of the recording suggested he was singing and playing at the top of a staircase, while recording himself with a battered old boom box at the bottom. (He also didn’t write all that engagingly, which didn’t help.)

That put me off trying to make my own recording, literally for years.

Remember (name redacted)’s album? I would ask myself. That was embarrassingly bad — and that guy played in bands for years, so you’d think he knows what he’s doing. It’s harder to write good songs and make a decent-quality recording than you think it is. Don’t risk embarrassing yourself. Just don’t do it.

It took a lot of things to overcome that. Downloading Audacity sound-editing software for my PC was a first step; I learned it was possible to layer a couple of sound tracks on top of each other in a listenable way. The gift of a secondhand MacBook from my brother helped too, after I discovered that Garage Band was probably even easier and more intuitive than Audacity.

Goofy as this sounds, some of the people I’ve met on Twitter over the past few years have influenced this project, too. I know a number of interesting, cool, likeable, creative people here in the Lehigh Valley who have publicly espoused a “just do it” philosophy.

Don’t wait for someone else to make something cool happen, they say, and by all means don’t sit around complaining that nothing cool is happening. Go out and do something. Shake it up. Stick your neck out. Be creative.

(Or, as my man Graham Parker sang: “Get started. Start a fire.”)

There are some things I did not have that I would have liked, and that I used as excuses not to get started. A drummer was chief among them. No, actually, a good singing voice was chief among them. I fully recognize that I do not sing very well, and for a long time, the idea of my voice droning off-key was a major deterrent to making my own music.

But finally I decided to use the tools I had on hand and do the best I could with them.

So I did.

# # # # #

I am led to believe it’s popular nowadays for solo singer-songwriters to perform under band names (viz. Owl City.) I thought about that for a while — maybe making some music and sneaking it out under a generic name as though a band had made it, so if it got universally mocked, I could still keep my distance.

In the end I couldn’t do that. Putting out the music under a name other than my own felt dishonest, and contrary to the spirit of the project. The whole idea is to stick my neck out and challenge myself.

Maybe that decision will bite me on the arse; maybe it won’t.

(By the way, if anyone remembers the post in January when I wrote, “If somebody does something that’s cool in concept but embarrassing in execution, which side wins?,” this is the project I was thinking of. The jury is still out as to which side won — but in a couple of paragraphs you’ll have the chance to cast a vote.)

# # # # #

The EP has been uploaded to Bandcamp as a name-your-own-price download. That means people can download it for free if they want — and I expect people will do that. It doesn’t bother me.

For one thing, home recordings by an amateur who can’t sing and only knows four chords aren’t really worth much.

For another, I only expect that family and a few friends will ever download this; and I didn’t undertake this project so I could beat my friends and family out of beer money. That’s not what this is about.

Gasbags gotta gas. But here, after almost 1,300 words, is the payoff:

I have finally crept out of my comfort zone and tackled a project I’ve wanted to do for years.

After decades of yakking, joking and wishful thinking, the first Kurt Blumenau solo album actually exists. It’s called Summer Games, and again, it’s available on Bandcamp. Click here to get to the page.

If you’ve read this far, consider downloading it (again, free’s fine). If you do, by all means let me know what you think. And if you find something to like about it, consider sharing it with others.


Summer Games