I had a new book idea two days ago and I’ve already written three chapters. Also, new music ideas keep coming to me. Horror wasn’t my river; twas the damn dam. I’ll get back there someday. Maybe tomorrow. Who knows?

There’s a fire in my bowl and a cup of Earl Grey with lemon steaming into this early autumn Texas evening. I’m mentally spent.

Evenings like this remind me of holiday nights on the railroad. That was such a short-lived dream. I’d spare a good year of my remaining life to know who was truly responsible for all that jazz. Or I could just walk away and be thankful for the memories.

That’s probably the best solution.

I think the miles are slowly beginning to creep up on me. I feel that reaper’s breath as it looks over my shoulder. There’s far more behind than what lays ahead, and I’m no closer to the answers than I was nearly fifty-two years ago.

Eat when hungry, poop when full, sleep when tired. Repeat. It’s the only constant. Everything else between those times are a craps game in a back alley.

I don’t think we have any control. We’re on a pre-destined ride, so hold up your hands and smile for the camera. I hope I’m right, otherwise I really sucked at living. Statistically. On paper. My high school transcripts were similar.

I’m truly living my best life to this point, but Facebook keeps asking me if I need help. For reference, I just picked a mosquito off of me rather than smash it. I’m sick of hate. So sick.

I’m fine, truly.

But aren’t you just ill right now? Like you have a greased up stomach and no amount of bathroom relief will suffice. Don’t you just feel like something is about to pop, and whatever comes out will change the world in one direction or the other? No in-between?

Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of, and I don’t scare.

Now my tea is cold.

Yep. There it is. Christmas commercials have started. That’s the disturbance in the force I was feeling.