There's too much on my mind and there's nothing I can do about it

They say that people who ignore the past are forced to relive it, or something to that effect.  I'm proof of that adage. Those who have followed this blog/diary know a bit about things, but let me repeat myself for any poor soul who has stumbled on Kicksville 66 by some fated accident. If you go back to the start, this blog began when Lux Interior passed on. So here we are then, approaching some sort of supercillious D-Day, ruminating over the contents of a simple paperboard carton-- a file box labeled "70s"-- the odd mementos that I'd elected to keep as proof of existence during an anxious blot in time.  Bit by bit, snips and snails and puppy dogs tails have floated out, each one restarting a faded film clip, complete with the whir and snap of flapping celluloid. If you've managed to stay awake this far, let it be said that the zigzag through the decade will continue so long as scraps elicit a response.