So, yeah, here it is, after three, going on four.
Me here, again, as usual.
Trying to pound out a post.
Trying not to complain too much.
Trying to be a little bit funny.
Trying to be an idiot savant.
Trying to raise my spirits and lower your expectations.
As if you had any expectations at all.
It feels like there is a white hot steel boot pressed hard into the back of my neck.
I'm not Thomas Edison.
I'm not Frida Kahlo.
I'm not Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
I'm not Edgar Allen Poe.
I'm not Hellen Keller.
I'm not some half crazed syphilitic genius slowly descending into madness.
I'm just, hey bozzie, can you come out and play for awhile?
Which is alright.
I guess.
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