not much to write about, i think i just need to at least get something out every week or so to let my future self know that everything was allright during this particualr period of time. so when he circularly checks back on past times, there will be something there, besides the void.

but it’s so nice out, and i feel exhausted. too exhausted to write, really, with way too much going on at work to really want to focus on anything afterwards or before. i wonder if allergies can have that much effect on me. i don’t really have the watery eyes or clogged sinus much anymore, but my body still feels laden with weight, and my brain feels like it has to be slowly coaxed out of the rat hole it found in the basement to scurry into. only with the right kind of cheese can i get him to even pop his head out and maybe think about considering coming out of the dark.

because if i can get him out of the dark, into the light, then that would be something. i’d shake my brain’s pituitary gland and say “thanks for making it on this fine day” and would hand him the key to the city, along with a huge pair of novelty scissors to cut the ribbon in front of the multi-million dollar complex attributed to something very fuzzy, warm, nice, and generally helpful in the societal sense. we would tour this facility, brain and i, and we would point out all the exciting things that were going to happen in the future with this building. the lives altered forever for the better, dragging people who don’t know any better onto the path of the righteous and truth.

it would be a very fine day, and we would go for a stroll outside on the yard of this particular facility and marvel at the grand engineering that went into making the building look so modern, yet such a throw back at the very same time. with awe and wonder we would gaze upon that which we had a huge hand in creating, even though both of us really have no idea what it will ultimately end up doing, improving, or impacting. it just has a good feeling about it, with good people involved.

we’d laugh some about the grounds that seem so immaculate, and wrap up our tour by going to get a few beers and talking about the old times until the wee hours of the morning, and with an appropriate stretch and yawn, we would go our separate ways, to our respective beds, to sleep the deep sleep of alcohol stupor, and dream of nothing.