good evening...

my dear, good friends. It's another lonely friday night at Stately Sad Old Goth Manor... Mrs. SOG is out at a Sixer's game, and it's just me and Tiger The Cat padding the dark and empty halls of this grim old pile, although, since Miss Tiger is sound asleep on the bed upstairs, I'm the one doing the pacing. I shan't keep you long, I promise, as I'm in that wringing out of words stage again, I think my muse has finally run off with someone more deserving of her gifts and I guess I can't blame her. I'm not exactly the mother font of words these days. One might think I would find inspiration in the time I'm forced to spend alone, but, alas, that is not so. I bore even myself these days, I can't imagine the depths of boredom you must find yourself in when you visit this shallow and stagnant pool that I, in moments of enthusiasm, call a blog. It has, of late, turned into that last stepping stone I tread before that final stage of rationalization, induced slumber. I'm tired of being lonely. Well, no matter, I suppose, I guess I'm not all that much fun to be around, anyway. I think I'm paying a price for being an independent sort, folly that it is. Perhaps being a bit shallow and needy has it's advantages, huh? Who knows? Not me, that's for sure.
So, I've said I shouldn't keep you long and here I've been a-rambling again. Sorry. I'm going to go sit in the dark and finish my bottle of bourbon and maybe root around in that dusty old bag of memories for a while, I've had a hankering to write about the past again. For something so spectral, it seems to have so much more substance then the present.
Enjoy your evening, my fellow wanderers. Thanks for checking in.
Fare thee well.

wander with me...



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