The memory of smoke

The memory of smoke

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Set the calendar back

One spot, so I'm not counting it.

War started hidden.
Silence, the sound of
The dead spinning in their graves.

Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Not so great

After two weeks last time, to start spotting again this morning was more than usually unwelcome. But so it goes. My lot.

Whole lot.

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Restart all over again.

Yesterday started, to my mild dismay. So much else to worry over. Still, hope on the horizon.

Today, well, enduring.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

The anti-christ has come.

Five months, then godsdammit, starts. Helluva year to go through this. Evil is afoot.

A doomed year of the fire cock.

Saturday, December 24, 2016

Nothing more to say

Christmas card signed "your friend" from not-a-friend. She wanted to be a mentor, and when I was 20, that didn't seem so bad, but even then I knew she wasn't a friend. Reacquainted decades later, she still bored, condescended to, me, but I made nice, until she pushed it.

Didn't respond actively, since that would have been unkind, merely ignored plethora of advice from oddball.

The times they are a changin'

122 days, which is no guarantee, but I'm so ready. Reading about cuck, as in cuckhold which is apparently still a thing. Like they're fucking Sicilian Renaissance dicks owning their women, which makes no damn sense.

The unmasking, will it spur a change?

Saturday, December 3, 2016

just one

Just one spot. And nothing else. So, 99?

Slept again, though.