Nero

I'm not angry, I don't really have anyone to be angry at.

I'm not sad. There's just no reason for it.

I'm certainly not confused, to me just about everything is crystal clear right now.

I'm not wrong. I don't know exactly what right is in any of these situations but I know enough to know I'm not wrong.

I'm not a lot of things.

But you know what I am?

I am pretty sure I'm totally fucked here.

Rome is burning. And I'm stuck playing my fiddle.

Stretch

I'd say today isn't going well, but the truth is it just isn't going much at all. I'm totally nonproductive right now. Nothing is getting done. Nothing is moving forward. I'm sort of trudging along taking care of the things that need to be taken care of immediately and just staring at the piles of things that don't.

I'm usually better than that.

I'm feeling a bit lost. There's a whole lot of hinting that I might be doing something horribly wrong here, and it's coming from all different directions and referring to all sorts of different things. The thing is I don't believe that anyone thinks I'm actually doing anything wrong. My father doesn't actually think I'm being shady or destroying the company, no one who hears my amusing go-go dancer stories actually thinks I'm fooling around with a go-go dancer, no one who knows how much time I spend with the church kids thinks I have any ulterior motives.

They just think the way I do things is weird. They think I'm weird.

They're right. Everything I do is weird. Everything I am is weird. I'm not different, or special, or exceptional in any way. I'm perfectly ordinary...I'm just not normal. I'm weird.

I've gotten used to that.

My old man can't understand why I don't care about money. Doesn't get why my goal in life isn't to amass as big of a fortune as I possibly can regardless of what it takes to do so. Doesn't get why I spend my money on others, or just give it away. Doesn't get what good it does me. There has to be some other reason for it.

My friends don't understand why I go to the places I go and do the types of things I do just to talk to someone. Surely there must be some angle. I must be trying to get something, or do something, or be something. There has to be more to it. There has to be something I'm not saying. There has to be some other reason for it.

Some people don't get why I spend so much time hanging out with people ten years younger than me. Why I deal with some of the bullshit that goes on, why I put so much time and effort and money into something that makes no sense to them. They don't get what I'm up to. They don't understand what I get out of it. There has to be some other reason for it.

But there's not. There's no reason for any of what I do beyond that it's what I want to do, or it's the right thing to do, or it just makes me feel better. I'm not half as complicated as you might think I am.

You don't think the same way everyone else does, you don't act the same way everyone else does, you don't want the same things everyone else does and people start to think there's something wrong with you. They start to think you're broken.

But I'm just not like everybody else. I just can't be.

Everybody's worried about the future, a future I probably don't have. So I'm not going to waste what I've got worrying about what I won't ever have. And I don't plan on letting anyone else do the worrying for me either.

I got this.

Really I do.

I'm not broken, I swear I'm not...I'm just a little weird.

When I Get Back From Where I'm Going: The Return Of Hob

"They say that something that doesn't kill you can only make you stronger, and if it does kill you...well then it's not really your problem anymore now is it?"- T.O. Hob, The Return

You know there's that point in your life where you stop, look back, and wonder..."How many people are left that I could possibly disappoint?"

And then you sort of wonder how you went so wrong when all you wanted to do was make sure everyone else was alright. You can't win them all, but you know what they call it when you can't win any of them? My life.

I'm a shitty person, a shitty businessman, a shitty customer, a shitty friend. I get that. I really do. But you never met a shittier person who tried harder to balance the scales then me.

I know what I am. And I know what I can't be. I'm sort of hopeless that way. Today just reminded me of that.

I talked to my old man about a couple of things today. Sort of in passing. There was a bit of a talk about surgery, and in what may be a first for me I admitted out loud that the idea scares the living shit out of me. We talked about me taking a vacation, and we briefly talked about me taking an extended vacation. And we had a half a second conversation about life, women, and growing old. And in that half a second I probably learned more about my father from the look he gave me then I've learned about him from anything he's ever said. It was sort of sad. I had a brief conversation with an old friend and I think she may have gotten the impression that I'm gone for good and until I realized that's what she thought I hadn't realized it might be true. And then I sort of wondered why the hell I'd be thinking that, until I realized there was no reason at all. That was sort of sad too. And across the rest of the night I saw and talked to people that mean the world to me and I sort of began to think about exactly what that world is made up of. And whether or not I really can stand being apart of it any longer.

I don't know if I'm destroying it, or it's destroying me.

Maybe it's time for me to say the word, and watch the whole world shift three inches to the right. I don't know. I just don't know anymore.

There's a pile of stuff on my desk just begging to be done, but I already know I don't have the head for doing it right this second. So I'm going to pack up, call it a night and head home and make a decision. Maybe, just maybe, it's time to bring Hob back and see what he thinks about the way my life has gone in his absence...


...but then again, I've spent the last ten minutes simultaneously writing this post and playing a game called "Zombie Hooker Nightmare Episode 2" while trying to remember if there's toilet paper in the office bathroom because I ate the meatloaf at the King George and I have to take a really ripping shit right now.

Really folks...does anyone expect any more of me at this point?

Deep

So the chances of me ever getting this last entry I've been writing up are slim to none at this point. You can't write a proper post about love and poetry when you can't quite figure out either one. So 'Latent Lament' becomes a lost post for the time being, and I'll try and get back to it before I'm old and grey. Or dead.

Today was a fun day. I didn't quite have the energy to run down to Belmar or trek up to Vernon so instead I went to the movies. Terminator Salvation wasn't bad, it just wasn't good either. Christian Bale...not fantastic in it. Never thought I'd say that. Sam Worthington was pretty damn good and I've always liked Anton Yelchin, he just didn't have enough to do in this one.

After the movie we went to Applebees and that sort of went like the movie too. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't good either. And now I'm back at the office just shy of 1:30 A.M. and I've got quite a hankering for some home time.

So yesterday's prophecy that this was going to turn into a long couple of days hasn't quite come true for me, but even as I type that I'm reminded...it's still early.

'night all.

giants

I'm old and I'm tired and I hurt on the inside, and although I have no real reason to think so I already know I'm in for a long couple of days.

My name is Chris Palomba and I'm the one who makes the walls fall down.

The Spider In My Camera

There's a spider in my camera. I don't know how he got there. I just know that I might not have noticed if his web hadn't grown so thick and tangled that it began to block my view. He sits there on his web, waiting for something, I know not what. And I sit here watching...and waiting as well.
~
I have no idea what I'm doing right this second. I'm normally fairly secure in the fact that nothing I do matters in one way or the other. I'm one of those people who would be glad if things that I did made a difference, but wouldn't be horribly disappointed if they didn't. Most of the time I rest easy in the fact that I'm not doing any harm at least. And then other times I'm not so sure. I'm pretty sure nothing I'm doing right now will ever make any difference...but I'm not totally sure. Maybe we're about to see that perfect storm where every stupid little thing I do actually somehow matters and I'm scared to death it will only be in bad ways.

I could sit here and think all night about these things I've done. Can sit here all night and worry about certain chains of events that I have put in motion. But the truth is that so small is the chance that anything at all wil come of it that I'd be wasting my time worrying about how badly it could go.

What will I do tonight? I'm not sure. There is somewhere I could have gone, but for reasons all my own I did not go. There's that bit of me that sits here and says it's still early, I could still make a run at it, but then the old tired rest of me screams to slow down and not get so far ahead of myself. There's that bit that says do whatever comes up because you don't know how far away tomorrow is and don't know what you'll be doing then. And there's that bit that says fuck it...just pack it in and go home because there is no way that one single human being could possibly take this much raw shit and still be standing. But then I look around. And I see so many people dealing with so much worse shit than me, and I know that they've got it so much tougher than I do and it doesn't make me feel better...but it reminds me that we're never alone in any of this. And though I watch other people struggle through the same exact shit over and over again and none of it ever comes close to being like any of what I've gone through, well it still just seems to fit. It still just seems to scream, "It's going to be ok." It just seems like the whole world keeps saying "It's going to be ok." Even though none of us are really sure that it's true.
~
I can see the spider every now and then crawling across the camera lense. I wonder how he expects to catch anything in the web, afterall he is all alone in there. And I wonder if when he realizes this he'll be able to get out...or if one of these days I'll be watching a dead spider stuck in his own web.

Gap

It would be nice if I could write a little bit today. I'm pretty goddamn down for the first time in a long time and I almost don't recognize how to deal with it right now. It's not even that today is a loss, it's more like a push. Saturday with the guys was a blast, and that one was already in the win column. Sunday night was a resounding success, although as has been pointed out to me since then it was missing a few people who would have most definitely made it even more fun. Monday was a solid day. Not an amazing day, but a solid day, the sort of day that lives are built on. And also a win. Yesterday was a win too. Sure it involved watching a movie that I alternate between calling "absolutely atrocious" and a "near miss" and I missed out on visiting an old friend, but it was still a blast. Today though...it was a tough day.

I still wasn't feeling all that well, I've been pretty beat in general lately, but the last two days I've been borderline ill. Their was some discordant fuckery (not necessarily heinous...but not necessarily not) at various points throughout the day and it left me feeling sort of bleh in general. There wasn't any coming back from it, but it just wasn't enough to call the day a loss.

I did manage to stop by the youth room for about an hour and hang out with some of the younger kids. I also heard that Forti's wife had the baby today and that's just brilliantly awesome. They're going to make great parents (shit, I never thought I'd say that...but it's true). And now I'm about to lock up and call it a night many hours before I usually would. I'll probably go eat some shit I probably shouldn't eat, and watch a movie, and read a little and still not fall asleep till the crack of dawn. But I'm getting the hell out of here either way. I keep thinking back to a day that seems like it was years ago but was really only a couple of months ago and how quickly things went wrong on that day. And I keep thinking about how I just stopped, took a few minutes to get right, and continued on trying to fix things and make it all better. I survived that day because I took a break, even a short one, something that I haven't been doing properly lately. That's something I need to work on.

I decided today that I'm going to begin wrapping up some loose ends, that it's about time I'm done with a few things in my life. I reckon it's being decided for me that I'm done with a few others but that will sort itself out as time goes by and I'll just have to make sure I'm ready for it. So there's going to be some changes and some things I try to change and when it's all done things will likely never be the same...but when are they ever around here anyway?

And just an aside...but I've just realized that it's five years to the day since I graduated college. Five years to the day and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.

Cool

I was never big on Spanish poetry. I knew who Garcia Lorca was, knew the important role he played in Spanish history. I've read a few of his poems, but couldn't repeat a single line of any of them even with a gun held to my head. I knew he knew Dali.

I know who Dali was, although I freely admit I often confuse Picasso and Dali paintings even if I could picture both men in my mind and can easily separate them by remembering that I recall when Dali died, but that Picasso was gone long before I was born. I remember that both were born in Spain, both had really long names (20 words for Picasso, Only 7 For Dali...but still.), both married Russian women, and both were generally known as amusing assholes. I always remember that Picasso painted Guernica and Dali painted The Persistence of Memory (the melting clocks...duh) but I often get confused and think Picasso painted The Crucifixion and Christ of Saint John of the Cross (one of my favorite paintings) even though Dali actually painted both. I sort of assumed that being as they were two of the most famous painters of the past 100 years, and Spanish contemporaries that they would have met at some point, but I never really thought about it until tonight.

We went to see Little Ashes at this theater in Montclair and the basis of the story was the relationship between Dali and Garcia Lorca. It wasn't that great of a movie but it got me thinking. One of the other main characters is referred to in the opening minutes of the movie as "Luis" and it wasn't till a few minutes later that I realized it was the Spanish film director Luis Bunuel. I studied Bunuel in school and have a better grasp of how important he was to film then Garcia Lorca was to literature. It's hard not to understand how important Dali was to art. Later on in the film it's pointed out that Dali was introduced to Picasso by Bunuel and it sort of got me thinking. There are these extremely important people in history who just sort of hung out together. There were famous people going all the way back in time who were just sort of buddy-buddy. I mean you'll always have people who were famous because of their association (Nobody would remember Mussolini without Hitler, if not for Cheech then Chong would have been just another stoner.) But here were four people, all famous and important in their own right who just so happened to repeatedly cross paths. I didn't catch if Garcia Lorca knew Picasso so let's drop Pablo out of this one, but Garcia Lorca, Bunuel, and Dali coexisted as close friends in some combination for over a decade and likely would have continued on for many more decades if not for Garcia Lorca's untimely death.

You see it all throughout history, people who will be remembered for hundreds of years and who just so happened to be close friends from Byron and Shelley to Pitt and Clooney. Sometimes it's a byproduct of traveling in the same circles or just repeatedly working together. Other times it's a common origin, or a common desire for greatness. Either way it's something that has always interested me because it provides for a fascinating "What if" scenario. What if you were the third person in a conversation with one of these famous pairings? How cool would that be? How interesting would it be to walk into a cafe in Spain in 1922 look up and realize you're sitting at a table next to one of the greatest artists of all time (Dali), one of the most important poets of all time (Garcia Lorca) and one of the most influential filmmakers of all time (Bunuel)?

It would be fantastic...or at least a hell of a lot better than that fairly shitty movie I watched tonight.

I guess that was just a really long way of saying don't waste your time going to see Little Ashes no matter how great you think Robert freaking Pattinson is.

Odd

It's a little odd when the highlight of your day (week?) involves standing in a parking lot in the middle of the night shooting pixie stix and chugging energy drinks with a bunch of teenagers. A little odd...but I'll take it.

Progress, Regress, Success

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The Bark & The Bite

I don't get frustrated with people all that easily, but I'm getting a little frustrated right this second. See I bust my ass to run a succesful company, I put the time in every single day to make sure things aren't just done they're done right. But people never see that. I worked fifteen hours yesterday, but all anyone in the office talks about is that I didn't come in until 11 A.M. They ignore the fact that I was only gone for nine hours, they ignore the fact that my job was totally done as was a large chunk of theirs. It's like everyone thinks the little shoemaker's elves come in the middle of the night and take care of all this shit that they find done the next morning. Add to that the fact that no one can figure out exactly what I do or how I do it, they just know that something is happening and it's working out pretty well. Hell they know they get their checks every week and they know they're making more than they used to. That's all that should really matter to them anyway.
~
Last night I conked out pretty much the second I got home. I mean I barely made it to the bed before I was done. That doesn't happen often, but despite actually getting a solid few hours the night before I was just beat. I woke up an hour later, took my shoes and pants off, and went straight back to sleep.

The weird thing is I didn't have one of those crazy dreams I normally do when I'm really exhausted, or even one of the Alter-World type dreams. Instead I had a particular type of dream that I've had every year since I started college, always right around the time of finals. Keep in mind it'll be five years next week since I've been out of college. But ever since I was a freshman I've had this recurring dream that I'm studying for finals, but I can't remember where or when my final is. I can't find the phone number or e-mail of anyone in my class to double check. I can't even remember exactly who the professor is to look up their office hours. I'm not panicking because I don't panic, but I am getting sort of worried.

Finals were always weird for me in college, I could never figure out the rhyme or reason in changing hours and classrooms for midterms and finals. It was complicated by the fact that I transferred after my freshman year and Rutgers did things differently than Marist, and that year to year Rutgers did things differently as well. I never actually missed a final (I did ace one in eight minutes while inebriated, and then walk out of the next one because I was hungover) but I was never really sure when I showed up on the day of that I was actually in the right place. There was this one time at Marist where I gave up on a midterm because I didn't recognize any of the terms or topics and handed it in taking a zero only to find out that the prof had his schedule confused and had given us the wrong exam. Another time I had to take an exam in my profs office because they had bumped an exam up a half hour and I'd missed the notice.

Apparently this paranoia leads to these dreams where I'm slowly getting frantic because I can't find out when the exam is. Last nights dream found me in the backroom of my grandparent's old house. I was sitting in Popcorn's old recliner fiddling with the lightbulb in the old brass lamp that always sat next to it, just trying to get enough light to read by. It was history textbook of some sort. I was the the same age I am now, but my siblings and cousins were contemporary to the time we would have been in the old house. My grandparents were strangely absent, I seemed to know they were dead even in the context of the dream. But there I am studying for a history class I never took, flipping through my notebooks frustrated by smudged phone numbers, illegible e-mail addresses, and irrational times and room assignments (I had one exam scheduled for 3 A.M. February 24th, 2011 in Hoffman Hall, I don't remember a Hoffman Hall and I'll likely be dead by 2011, even if I'm not I still wouldn't show up for anything at 3 A.M. unless it involved scotch and Russian women or chocolate milk and fireworks). My cousins were trying to help me find the time and place of the exam, my little brother and sister were running around bouncing off of things. Everybody but me was finding it all very funny. I was just getting frustrated. The kids kept getting louder. More and more notebook pages were blank where I just knew something had been written down before. Pictures are falling off the walls, I go to the refrigerator to get something to drink but it's empty. It's getting hot and stuffy but all the windows are stuck shut and I can't reach the air conditioner because the ceiling keeps getting higher and higher. I'm getting all worked up and I'm just about to scream as I throw open the old dusty curtains on the sliding glass doors but where the porch my grandmother used to sit on to listen to the birds and feed the squirrels was there is not nothing, only darkness. And I'm slightly perplexed.

Then I woke up, and all I could think of in place of the million things I've been locked in on lately was that I was very glad that I didn't have to find out when and where that history exam was.
~

My next thought after waking up was "What the hell is that feeling in my chest?" Because apparently last week's miserable allergies have all decided to migrate down into my lungs and now I'm hacking away every time I try to take a breathe. It's so deep and gritty a cough that every time I catch a fit sitting here at my desk my god damn guard dog starts howling in response. I'm actually not feeling sick at all, but I can feel all this shit building up and it's not exactly comfortable. So yeah, hopefully my allergies won't flare up again because then I'm really dicked, and hopefully I'll get some real rest tonight because I'm frakkin' exhausted, and hopefully I won't dream about anything but sunshine and fucking because it would sort of be nice to wake up with a smile on my face.

Typos?

So after being notified of a large amount of typos in my last post I went back and took a quick look at it. I really don't think there were more than the normal amount of typos but I totally admit that the sentence syntax went to shit as the entry tailed off. Probably had something to do with me falling the fuck asleep while I was typing it.

Another night ends in the same place that it started, my office. I've been spending a lot of time here lately and it doesn't look like it's going to slow down at all anytime soon. My dad's staying clear of the office while he gets his new house ready. Tim's around a bit, but doesn't have a lot that falls into his area of responsibility. I haven't been coming in early most mornings which is nice, but on the flip side I'm rarely out before midnight and most days it's been even later than that.

Still trying to get my house cleaned up, still planning on trying to rent the upstairs out in the next few weeks. Not sure if either one of those things is going to happen. Have to touch base with the guys again in the next couple of weeks, it's not cool when two months goes by without seeing any of them. But I reckon that's sort of how it's going to be sometimes from now on. Going to try and get the Antioch Team together next weekend, maybe go see Star Trek in IMAX. I didn't get to do a movie night with the kids last night, so I owe them one, should be able to set that right in the next few days.

In other news, I really need to take a piss right now. And I'm feeling sort of falling-asleep-at-the-keyboard-ish, so I'm going to sort out a bit of procedural type paperwork and then bail.

It was a long week, long weekend, long day, and long night. And now I really need a nap. Because I don't rightly think that this week will be any easier.

'night all.

O-Vah

The Bishop
So Friday night I headed up to the old Bayley Ellard High School to visit the evolving young adult evangelization center they're calling St.Paul's Inside The Walls. It was something Mrs.K asked us to go to and it actually turned out to be pretty interesting. It helped that Michelle and Cara went with me, going alone wouldn't have been nearly as interesting.

It's a nice place they've got up there, and if it weren't for the Danger: Asbestos signs hung all over the friggin' place it might have not even seemed like they had work to do. Either way there seemed to be a good group of people there, the priest in charge was a very energetic guy, and the Bishop was well spoken (if sometimes frustratingly contradictory).

There were more than a few things he said that I thought were well put, but a lot of things that I cringed just a little bit at. I'm sure I rolled my eyes a few times, I'm sure he caught me at least once. I'd like to go back out there and check it out again, see how it goes on a regular night without the Bishop.

I'm not really sure what the future holds for me as far as my association with the actual church part of the church group is concerned, but this is still something that interests me one way or the other.

After the mass ended we headed back rather quickly to Wizards and ended the night pretty much like we end most Friday nights nowadays...and like most Friday nights I enjoyed every second of it.

The Boys
It's been about two months since I've seen any of the guys for more than a few minutes. So when I heard Gonzo would be local tonight I knew we were going to be getting at least a few people together. It still ended up being a small group (Gonzo, House, Sean and I for the most part). But Forti stopped by which was cool because it's been awhile since I've seen him, and his wife is due to pop out a beautiful little baby girl any moment now. He only stayed for a little bit, but it was still good to see him.

This guy Joe we hung out with in high school ended up meeting up with us as well. We've had some fun nights with Joe in the past, but it really has been awhile. We ditched out of Geez around 11 and the guys stopped at two more bars before I drove us all up to Wizards. We did another shot, had another drink and bounced out of there as well, but not before Rickey stopped in for a minute to say hello. It was definitely good to see him, it's been entirely too long.

I'd heard from an old friend somewhere in there and even though it was pretty late the six of us (The three I started with, Joe, and a guy we picked up in a bar who somehow ended up in the trunk of my truck) made a mad dash for Bloomfield where I pretty much booked on them the minute we walked in the door. I spent a little while chatting before being interrupted by two managers and a bartender who all told me they had just closed the bar downstairs and my friends were waiting in the parking lot, they said I could stay, but that the others had to go. In interest of not causing a scene I said goodbye and met the guys outside. Several things happened in the next few hours, I somehow found myself scratching off lottery tickets in the parking lot of a Quick Check in Paterson at three in the morning and then eating a mushroom sandwich at the King George while Sean and House slept it off in the backseat of my car. An hour later I'm dropping Sean in Ramsey and hauling ass back down to Paterson so that I can the yard opened up for the single ridiculous job we have today.

It was a pretty good god damn night, even though halfway through I found myself wishing I was elsewhere.

The Bullshit

So there's only one job today, but it's a doozy, and it wasn't prepped right, and I might end up driving it myself. There was some talk about seeing Star Trek in IMAX tonight, but something tells me we're not getting that one together. I have the unfortunate feeling we won't be doing anything tonight, but I seriously hope I'm wrong. Either way I'm still ridiculously happy that I get to see so many of the church group so often, and I just hope that I get to see the ones I don't see all the time more often in the future.

My allergies are already killing me and it will be at least six hours before I can get any sleep. I'll only be out for an hour or so then before I have to head up to my mom's for mother's day and try to cobble something together for the evening.

It's going to be a long day, hopefully it's an interesting one as well.

Fear, Fatigue & The Fugue

I'm not doing all that brilliantly right now.

There isn't anything wrong really.

At least not anything that I could call a proper situation.

It's just that I'm sort of wonked.

I'm doing fuck all horribly on my "diet". I was down around thirty pounds from January to the end of March. And in a little over a month I've put most of that back on. I'm fucking tired all the time so it's tougher to work out, I'm fucking trying to avoid so many things that I can't focus on eating right or even eating at all. So instead of eating the shit I'm supposed to eat a few times a day in small amounts I'm right back to eating shit I shouldn't eat once a day in entirely too large an amount. Fuck. The worst part is that even though you could never see the difference because I'm so fucking huge to start with I could feel the difference. And now I feel worse then I did before. When you're just consistently gaining weight over a long period of time you don't feel the difference. When you've actually gone down a few pounds and then packed it back on all in a rather short period of time you definitely notice. And I don't like it. It's never bothered me being a fat fuck, but this isn't a feeling I like at all.

Add to that the fact that I'm really fucking up when it comes managing my time right now, I'm spending too much time in the office and not enough time getting my house straightened out or trying to get into an appropriate exercise routine or even just sleeping. I'm beat. And for the first time I'm feeling like I won't be able to get my energy back if I don't catch a little break.

My head's been pretty solid these past five months (holy shit...that long, eh?). But in the past two weeks I've found myself slightly confused about a few things I thought I was pretty clear on. I guess that's just life sometimes, but these are things that if I make the wrong call on I'm dicked.

I've also been behaving myself pretty much lately. With the exception of one or two ill advised nights and a rare (mostly well justified) outburst I've got my shit fairly under control. Not saying I won't snap and rip people's arms off for no reason one of these days, but I'm just saying it seems less likely than it used to.

So yeah, I'm terrified about a whole laundry list of new things, tired because of so many others , and confused just enough that I might wake up one morning knowing I'll never be certain about anything ever again.

Shit...this could get interesting.

First May Posts

I do this every once and awhile, don't know why. Maybe just to bump the front page of the blog. So going all the way back, here are my first posts in the month of May...

2008: See

2007: Beginning

2006:What

2005:Pervert

2004: H-Hour & InformationKills

I'm not even sure I can make sense out of half of those.

And of course since it's May, let me pop up one of my all time favorite May posts...@Story

And a post that still comes up every now and then despite the fact that very few people have ever actually seen it...Honors

So yeah...May should be interesting, or not. I can never tell anymore. If not I'll just try again in June.

'Night all.