Bring on the bugs. So who knows what's going on? I don't. Hoping for a lead soon. Soon the end is near. I've got to get right on it, no hanging, no slop. Either work or run. No in between. A goddess, a simple request. Oh dream, pointer, light, beacon. That's what she's like, the headmast on a beautiful boat bound for green, and full of fine bounty (cards), I need that ship.
Blown off isles withdrawn,
amidst blue-green cool of weather's dawn,
I held out the truth
only to be shrugged off like I
had little to hold.
If only we all could see. And it ain't just me.
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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