Quixotism, How I Loathe Thee

Tonight, I died.

I found myself wounded, taking the final blow... enduring the death throes, unable to speak for fear of breaking; then, finally passing through the veil into the darkness.

I've passed into the realm of Purgatory, where I am to be schooled, tested, and judged...

And the process of rebirth shall likely be long and painful indeed.



Time to rehash, rearrange, reawaken, redefine, re... do.

Time to change my stripes. Some of them, anyway. The ones that don't accent my butt.

Time to finally burn, wholly to ash... and to rise refreshed, reinvigorated, renewed.




As great as all that sounds, and as much as I know it's for the best, I can't help but be absolutely miserable about this. I know it didn't work. I know it probably wasn't going to, at least not for a loooooooooong time. And I know that we both need to figure some shit out on our own. Regardless of all this... I just lost the woman I love, again, for what is without a doubt the final time. And I am... devastated.





Merry Fuckin' Christmas, huh?

A New Era

Goddamn.

...And it all comes apart.

"This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife!"

"And you may ask yourself, 'Well, how did I get here?'"






"And you may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go?'"








"And you may ask yourself, 'Am I right? Am I wrong?' And you may tell yourself, 'My God! What have I done?'"