this may occur, for now, like, "Please disperse. There is nothing to see here." or maybe more like, "These aren't the droids you're looking for." and you'd be Right to feel that way.
this page, you see, like the site in its entirety, is brand spankin'-ass new, y'all. a work in progress. don't really know What's gonna happen here. aside, of course, from pure madcap Silliness. oh there will be Plenty of That. that And frequent changes (as is, dare i suggest, inherently the case with a self-described work in progress). KDworks will come & go, entire pages may flip-flop or swap, one day it may All disappear. and you can find it here. or Can you?
glad you're checking it out. we at KDworld Enterprises look fwd to playing with you more soon!
Whistler: An Open Letter
For some reason I don't like whistlers. You know, the people who really make a point of flute-a-toot-tooting some happy tune I never recognize.
To make matters worse, for seemingly years now, whenever I hear one, I'm also quite unable to locate where or whom the offending gentleman actually is. (I say gentleman because, let's face it, it's never a woman, is it? Nope. It's Not. And it ain't some "dude" either; he's Bound to Be a Gentleman.) Makes me wonder if it's just One Guy. One Guy who follows me around, astutely discerning precisely when to torment me with his most piercing warble. Makes me wonder, at times, if maybe it's all in my head--some bizarro foreboding soundtrack to my otherwise wonderful life, some torturous-cruel theme of impending willy-nilly wickedness, a harbinger of Lynchian maniac creepiness to come. I wonder. And I don't like. And where is all this going...?
Good god I don't know.
I only know I want it to stop. Please, Whistler Guy or David Lynch, make it stop!
