Composition issues

I'm trying to figure out why I can't put spaces between paragraphs all of a sudden. It works in the composer, but when I publish all the lines disappear. I like spaces between my paragraphs and have been doing this since I began blogging back in 1949.

Now, when I hit the publish button the preceding space should Still exist! I don't think that's a lot to ask.

My friends, Kevin and Diana returned from the hospital finally. Diana was the patient but Kevin lived there, too, and Trooley, their noble dog, spent a significant amount of time in the car in the UI Hospitals Parking Lot. That way he felt like he was doing something. They're at home snoozing and eating food they like. They are having long periods of sleep uninterrupted by occuaptional therapists or medical students, or occupational therapy students.

I am protesting this revolting lack of spaces after paragraphs by writing this in Courier, which is much less attractive type. But enough about this, really.

I was in Iowa City last night and we cancelled practice because it was surely going to snow and the fellas didn't want me to get into trouble going home. I didn't really snow, to speak of; it was just dust on the driveway. We rescheduled for tomorrow night. It's supposed to snow.

We are performing at the Mill Friday night. Friday nights are not my best night to play because about 10 p.m. all I really want to do is sit on the sofa. It's pitiful. When I was a young man we played two four hour nights there about every sixth weekend. Once I played there, when I was playing with John Swinton, and I saw Keith's calendar. Greg Brown was booked for 40 dollars that Saturday, and I think we got paid 30, and drinks -- lots of drinks.

The Mill was full of graduate students and old hippie geezers and poets and lots of noisy drama students, and generations of musicians. For 40 years, the Mill spawned hundreds of musicians, all of whom could swill drinks and eat good suppers, and hide out. Keith would tell you what you were worth as a musician if you asked, and he was brutal, and often right. The first time I auditioned for him, he changed the channel on his television set during my song.

Now the Mill is a nice club, but it isn't run by Keith Dempster or booked by Pam. The food still comes late, but it doesn't taste as good. We'll play and listen to each other (becuase we have to -- insufficient practice)and make that familiar and comforting music. Somebody in a Press Citizen editorial blog said that most Iowa City musicians believe we are full of ourselves. I personally don't think most Iowa City musicians agree. But we are full of ourselves sometimes. It's a pleasure to be in a band that works and I, at least, don't believe I'll probably ever been in one this good again. When I play, it fills me up, and so sometimes I'm full of it, and that's that.

Well I'll be damned! My spaces are back! Cool.