Ok, I'm back bitches.
Albion sucks. AirCav sucked. Fed & Empire & Downtown have not been explored yet. I've got a new girlfriend. I bought a truck and am turning it in to another camper/RV (and am getting FUCKING SCREWED in the process.) Let's see, got a subscription to The Paris Review. Was reminded by I dislike the Paris Review. (It's fucking depressing. "Good lit" seems to be "depressing lit." Lame.) I've watched every video on Youtube. Twice. I've made a few croquembouche's. I got tested a few times for bat plague. I've fixed a bunch of stuff. I've felted Christmas ornaments. I've done a million different things to avoid life. Then a cat died.
The beloved Prince Barin, the best cat who has ever lived, died suddenly, instantly, at age 7. He was no longer mine, lost in the divorce, but the ex lives down the hall from me in the building, so, it's sad. Which causes incidents of self-reflection that can't be ignored with youtube videos, truck work, or single malt. Which causes me to remember, once a fucking again, who I am. A creator.
Create. Don't consume. I'm back. I think.
Also, colonoscopy in about two weeks. I'm not pleased with the idea of anesthesia