Somedays I get so mad that all I can do is get an ulcer. Then I swallow a huge gulp of air and circulation begins to happen again. Things hold me down, but I get upset when I hear of wrong things happening to the wrong people.

In order to stave off curiosity and summertime lonely desire, I have to make duly certain that I'm not going to summer camp, or crossing paths with a female whom I have no intention of knowing, and it all seems nice until ol' Jack  brings up that sore spot. Hot damn that was wily. I just assume posting ludacris signs to get my own space again. 

I want to take a moment to not feel so crippled by anchors of industry and madness. I see why Don only knows work life, and drinking. It suits nicely for a round or eight of mindless self indulgence, and certainly the quicksand of madness.

I'll get out and breathe some air. I'll get going soon, and post a sign for the door to help bring closure for me and that extra space of mine.