I have always used my memory and the ability to make random connections - to generate insight. I had hoped there was SOME intelligence or creativity involved. Instead, apparently - it's just brain damage.

I had a few more stops scheduled for the oblivion express. But. All poetic notions aside. I can’t move a mountain. Swim an ocean. Or cast a magic spell. What I can do is vomit. Clean it up. And move on.

Everybody has days – well, like today. And this is the result. Good? Bad? I don’t know. But. It is something. I guess we’ll call it a “win”. I have lots of ghost stories to share. Someday. For now? Enjoy!

Quitters never blah blah. Sleep is my reset. Every morning a fresh start. But. Every night a million “why bothers”. And. One good night I won't have the strength to fool myself – and will go gently – without an answer.

For me? Creativity and emotions are painfully inseparable. EVERY thought I share – here, there, everywhere – entails Van Gogh level suffering. So. Why do it? Because I crave deep, meaningful, open, honest – conversation.

One of the first plays I remember attending – I believe in the 2nd grade – included a dramatization of "The Princess and the Pea". I think that was perfectly appropriate, considering my unhealthy fascination with fairy tales.

Humans need an "origin story". This normally develops during childhood – by observing the world and asking questions. But when circumstances prevent that, or trauma blocks it out – one must be "retconned". For lack of a better word. And the brain will invent whatever it needs to survive.