Month: July 2018


I have given up. Sort of. I am uninspired. Drained. Out of gas. My peeper’s pooped. Life forces ebbed. I am become sedimentary, as in rock. I am as the blacksmith in Todmorden village in 1648. Irrelevant. Purposeless, pointless, past it.

Tempus Fuckit

Nothing lasts very long. Friends, especially. And it doesn’t bother me at all. But the thought of losing my spaniel… that’s a different matter altogether.

Her back legs are going.