Yes, it is true, I am stuck in a funk. I don’t know how I fell into this funk. I am not even sure that I could describe the funk for you. If the police asked for a description I would tell them that it was a hazy shade of winter because I haven’t the foggiest idea how else to put it.
This happens to Old Jack sometimes, I get taken by these funks the way aliens take farmers out of Cleveland. Sometimes they last a spell and sometimes they last less than a spell. Don’t ask me how long a spell is because I can’t tell you with any certainty, any more than I can describe said funk.
And if I tell you that something smells funky don’t ask what it smells like because I am not sure how to describe that. It is kind of a burnt Hampshireish road type thing.
All I have to say now is bleah.