This title has run its course. It started as a way to put my brand on a phrase that didn't turn up on a web search, and went wandering off for a while under that banner.
It's not a lot to say. Most people are lonely, some are angry, and two or three are afraid to die. It's, like, the human condition, isn't it? Or am I wrong about you? To those who can deny it of themselves, bless you. Bless you who can't. And to those who came here looking for someone sharing their own hell and found a smug pontificator, sorry. Good luck.
As for the story arc, the girl and I took our shot, then subsided to our original positions. It's what we know. We're closer than before because we understand more now and like what we learned better than not.
I have a little place here in the imaginary nation of Cascadia, wondering if I'll get bored with all the green, enjoying the true dark and absence of white noise.
Still plotting a, what, escape? A more joyful word? A move to some other land with other ways of being, but it's so comfortable here, and what would I do with all my stuff? The big leap - to just dump it all and pare down to a carry-on and backpack, well, I'd miss my things too much. But I'll take a run at it in a while.
Once I had the clothes on my back and a bedroll. I made a note to myself then not to buy the line that I was "happy," but, yes, I was. Torn up and tormented and totally in bliss. Because I was not afraid. And times were promising. Not to be afraid, that is to be free. I'd like that back.
So now let this thing become space junk, drifting in the cold and dark of the nebulae, a monument turning slowly end-over-end against the background of stars, until entropy comes for the google cloud. Ozymandias, the silicon monolith. Laying hands here won't evolve you.
Keep moving, don't let the bastards get you down.
aff.,
