Like Assendon without Bix, sporting goods without Dick's,

I yearn for you.

Like a junkie sans their fix, or west Texas without hicks,

As the good people over in the Fediverse have heard to no end:

I've been doing a lot of personal work.

I got tired of being a surly, touchy, reactionary boy. It really does fuck with one's relationships. Of course no one had time for my bullshit; I collected bullshit all day, every day. Of course people weren't as willing to share with me; they had no idea if I'd chuckle, fly off the handle for the next twenty seconds, or simply shrug and say nothing.

My birthday fast approaches!

I don't want to celebrate, really, because I fucking suck.…

As it says on the tin: my mom is gone. She passed this morning, in (as I understand it) a morphine-assisted slumber; may we all go as easily and painlessly.  

This one's going to be a bit deep, a bit informative, certainly retro- and introspective. As a bad man with some good intentions was wont to say, there you are, and here I am; shall we?