OK, now! I keep on promising myself that I’m going to write, but where’s the time? Hell, I’m usually lucky to realize there is such a concept, instead of just plodding along hour after hour and day after day in hazy half-thought, only to look at a clock or a calendar in amazement of how much or how little of this precious commodity called time has been spent. To wonder where I have been, to fear what I may have done, never to remember, in that interim irks me. What is it with me? Is my circadian clock damaged? Is a cancer consuming that part of my brain? What difference does it make? The real is as vague as the Surreal all the same.

Tonight is at least a point that I will remember, for a few days, anyway. I have just finished this past quarter’s coursework and have a week to do nothing but write and plunk away at my piano and maybe get in my car and try to find a few roads around here that I haven’t traveled down a thousand times before. Luckily, I’ve got some cash, so maybe I’ll walk up to the pub and drink myself silly on liters of stout. But then the goddamned college kids will bother me and ask me what I’m reading. Is it so strange to read in pubs? You don’t get that reaction in coffee houses, but the coffee houses in this town don’t serve alcohol, and I’d prefer to stay home and drink tea. I guess ill-tempered old anarchists like me are supposed to stay indoors anyway.

I heard a good joke on the tube a while back. Unfortunately, it doesn’t play well written out, but think it through and you might get it. It goes like this. Why do communists drink herbal tea? Because they believe property is theft.

BTW, the photo is not me. It is Shane MacGowan. The birthdate is his as well. I am an old punk, but not of the original generation like Shane.

I have used Charles Darwin's photo on some other sites, so, if any of you are Gothic Personals members, you may have run across me before. Basically, I like to write letters, and I am seeking pen pals. I welcome any and all correspondence.

Originally, I had intended on keeping what is proper for the general public in my blog and the more sordid details here. Not that anything I have written lately is particularly sordid, but my blog is on my .name site, which is a little more identifying than I wanted to be in this journal. Quite frankly, I am pretty paranoid and I do feel I have a few facts about myself I would rather not share unless at least asked first. Maybe I will get a .name for my old web handle; I like that idea....