5... continued...


2 things;
1. Happy Twelfth Night.
2. Commenter John asks why I started blogging. A fair question, worthy of an honest answer. John, I haven't the slightest idea. I've been reading blogs for years, probably nine or ten and just figured I'd give it a shot. I'm not much of a socialite, I can count my closest friends on one hand and have a few left over. I don't go clubbing any more, rarely go to concerts or shows, just the occasional opera or a night out with a friend, sometimes my daughters. I shun being in public in general. I guess it was just an available outlet for whomever wanted to read what I had to say, respond or refute, without having to endure the face to face thing. This blog has changed over the years. It started out as a "hey, guess what I did today?" thing, interjected with some humorous looks at current events, then folded into some sort of gut spilling venture during an especially dark time in my days, then I got very political and, thankfully, now, it's much less so. That was taking a toll that I couldn't afford to pay. It's been a place to show my dark side, I've always been a sullen foole and when I found the goth outlet back in the day, I jumped into that feet first and found some comfort there. I was always of the goth bent, just never had a style or label to go with it. I never let it go, hence the title of the blog. Some people mistake the "sad" for unhappy, but it's not. "Sad old goth" is a term coined by the second generation of goth kids back in the eighties for those who passed into the nether world of their thirties and beyond and still hung on to the lifestyle. Sad = pathetic...
I guess all this is less of an explanation than I could really dredge up, but all of it is truth. I will say that because of this blog, my horizons have been immeasurably expanded, I've made a multitude of "friends" that I'll probably never meet and the many that I've been able to meet are the most admirable, honest, forthright and upstanding folk I'd ever had the pleasure to. They are rare folk, indeed, very rare.
So, there you go, somewhat. An answer, of sorts.

And now, gentle friends, I shall bid thee fair eve. I am alone this night, save for Tiger, Basil and Grem, three of the most wonderful cats I've ever had the honor of knowing. Night has folded her soft, dark wings around Stately Sad Old Goth Manor®, all is quiet, save for the strains of Henry Purcell's "Hear My Prayer, Oh Lord", playing in the next room, the seemingly ever present wind howling through the spruce trees and the eternal tick, tick, tick of the ancient clock that shares my lair...
Fare thee well this night, my fellow wanderers. Fare thee well...
Gregor




go ahead, make your day...