Sometimes it's best just to keep going, all those hours lost on one goal, one idea. Many ideas all coalesce into one. It was nice talking to such a slinky sexpot, no disrespect intended. Wacky, I should have remained home, all that was accomplished was some snappy repartee and some useless small talk that gave me scoping opportunity. Every time I write the word - opportunity - I look to see how recently I might have penned it in the past.
Asleep, gentle waker, and re-lose the ground,
storm soft castles for a feather-down crown.
Valiantly absent in corporeal form,
he tackles the worst beasts who challenge the norm,
and that is peace, quiet from the outside,
and a warm little place for heroes to hide.
Who's suave now? Who's the king of swing? There are few here who would know.
On Xmas of 1992 my brother gave me this journal made of recycled paper with a twig pencil. I eventually filled it up sporadically up to 1995. I dug it out, dusted it off, and started looking through it today, May 6th, 2013. I've decided to reproduce the posts online. It's raw and sure to be embarrassing, but I feel enough time has passed that I can distance myself, yet find a very familiar me within these lines and perhaps find the inspiration to take up the pen again..... Thanks, big Bro.
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