Perhaps this is my greatest reoccurrence of masochism. To each week, for approximately three-quarters of a score of years now, stare down this blank page and attempt to wring something worthwhile from the seemingly empty void.
Monday Evening Thoughts: 12.8.25
There is an inherent difficulty with the regularity of this ramble. Tragically confined to a day and time, hoping the inspiration might be found without force having to be applied. It slows and stalls the words, at the moment, as I scrambled about scattered and non-linear notes made throughout the chaos of the day….
Monday Evening Thoughts: 12.1.25
These keys, this quest- it draws me here, yet again. Be it madness or benevolence, this inescapable ideological interrogation inspires further inquiry into the soul I call home. Will we get any closer? Perhaps. Further away? I hope not, though in ways that must be a bit unavoidable, at least in the temporary.
The Veracious Facade 