Monday Evening Post: 8.8.22

I wonder. At what point does memory become history? And, at what point is desire too corrupted by selfishness so that nothing pure is left remaining?

Monday Evening Post: 7.25.22

Another solar spin and begins again the rebranded pondering. The reflection upon choices made as age wins another round in the meander forward. There is a sink full of dirty dishes, and here I am doing this.

Monday Evening Post: 9.27.21

     Was it courage? Some sort of boldness and bravery, that would lead me to this place? The cliff upon which I would dive out into the harrowing depths of my own consciousness. The precipice from which I would precipitate an amateur ideology that somehow always reassured some sense of self belief. Was it that…

Monday Evening Post: 12.14.20

It may have been a fortunate thing. To have had at least a bit of a temper, since some of the youngest days I can recall.