Update, Bitches.

Where am I at right now?

For all of my masked indifference, I feel like all of my successful relationships with creatures and noncreatures on Earth are 100% the effect of being obsessively accommodating.

Recently, I awarded myself with a basic need. Interaction with people that I need.

On the off time from the physical demands of a Hell Shack renovation on the Bering Sea.... in the smallest village rounded out heavily with full blown "villagers" on the edge of the planet, I try to find music and art and philosophy that cranks my rusty chain. I feel it yanked alot, but it's nothing I can't handle. I still swim with the fish.

My family... my loved ones.. are all battling deep personal tragedy, and I am the finger tips of their current. I fuck the sky blindly when no one is watching, when no one that matters can bust me.

Lately, I think... I like the Commodores.

And my recent freak out with my ability to process Mark Rothko's work... Resolved. When I leave this seat, I will "express" my feelings for Disco as if I was endlessly terrified of my own politics.

There's more to me right now I suppose.

But I am dissolving the worst of it, and will return when I have something solid enough, yet soft enough to process, and I will seek one of your wise wise wise medicinal quips, that will no doubt set me straight, right, and thrust me back into the same fucking place in line that I curse out all of my verses from... at you... constantly oblivious... and I will sustain my hunger by eating my heart to spare my soul.


Shiver me timbers.

Fire is come. Fire is gone.

Number one.
Number fucking one.