The writings of a borderline madman. Dawn climbs the horizon yet not. As the dark brew ground fine brews to steamy hot. Awake though lesser in aware. Unbalanced with vision blurred by bloodshot. To nothing doest unfocused stare. Despite the effort of Sandman to lull with coo. Night upon night doest his call be stilled. Save a nod overtaken for an hour or mayhaps two. Alone in the dark and dreary.

Saturday, July 23, 2011. There always followed a pause and a change of topic.

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A Recipe for a Great Mom. Mix ingredients together and you will have my mom. Who needs a massage everyday. Who gives hugs and kisses. Who would like to see me have a girlfriend. Kind, Joyful, Sweet.

This, our precious planet,. Whose seasons I knew well,. Protects itself from us,. Outside the wind bellows,. And the rooftops quiver,. From weather now altered,. To voice a discontent,. The degree to which I,.

The Open Source of Hovering Ideas. Yeah bro, Still coding with ya. Still the refactoring is a mess. Still refactoring that shit, huh VJ? And maki.

This familiar whistle of the summer breeze. And with it the gush of memories. I relive them all, and as I fall. Into this eternal darkness of the night. I feel at ease, almost like home,. A comfort in the absence of light. As it opens its long black wings. In silence, my solitude sings. Songs that only I know, songs that I adore. The stillness of the night seems to play. Music, more soulful than any hum of the day.

Not just Ayni and her Thing, but there are more than you can Think. I think i just love you.

In the immovable flow of grain. In the grey certainty of landscape. Solid as a history engraved yet fluid. In a play of light. Histories, after all,. Such foundations float on time. To bring stark granite certainty.