Ffolkes,

I believe I’m suffering a universal page fault in my brain…. I’m not entirely sure exactly what that is, but, I know when I see it on my computer screen, it’s a bad thing, and that’s what we have here, for sure and for certain….. a bad thing. Not unusual, not surprising, but bad…. Still, my heart beats in my chest, and my breath continues to go in and out of my lungs, so, I suppose I’d best get on with this….

I’m burnt…. baked, fried, sautéed, grilled, whichever method you choose, I’m way overdone….. I know it. The symptoms have been obvious for days now, but, I’ve been unwilling to admit it, or them, because I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t write…. Talk about diffuse anxiety! This is more of a specific anxiety, actually, one that strikes every time I suffer one of these burn-out…

Ffolkes,
“The more articulate one is, the more dangerous words become.” — May Sarton

Man, I certainly hope so! If not, what the hell am I doing here? I’m sure as hell not spewing out my guts every day just so people will like me; it’s nice when they do, and helps me appreciate the good that remains in this sad old world, but I’m too old to spend any more effort worrying about how what I say when I write might upset somebody’s applecart. I write to get the stuff in my head out where I can look at it objectively, or at least editorially, and where I can make a rational decision as to whether or not it needs to be eased out, gently and persuasively, or spit out, decisively and vehemently.

I try not to spew too widely, to actually aim what I’m throwing, so that individuals…

Ffolkes,

You think you have problems! Murphy lives with me!…. Actually, it only seems that way. I found the foregoing in Smart Bee this morning, as I cast about for something to start with, and since it fits so well with many of my previous introductory sections, I threw it out there for consumption. In reality, Murphy is apparently off somewhere, undoubtedly plotting something nasty for me… It’s the only explanation for ignoring me, apparently, for several days. Whenever I’ve had periods like that in the past, he was working on some complicated, and difficult problem to drop in my lap, preferably at a moment when I am least prepared to deal with it, as is his habit and preference….

I often forget that everyone else in the world is as familiar with him as I am; it’s a purely human reaction to do so, though, so I don’t feel…

Ffolkes,

The quote adorning the first line, above the most excellent picture, is a familiar idea around here; that may be why, whenever I come across it, I am also reminded of another fine statement, to which I also strongly subscribe, to wit:

“There comes a time in every man’s life when it becomes necessary to just roll up his sleeves, spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and start slitting throats.” — H. L. Mencken

Just gets me, right here (*somber expression, with hand over heart*), every time…. The picture you see, by the way, was NOT posed, reportedly…. An average guy was taking pictures in the forest back of his home (in France? I…

Ffolkes,

    Halloween. All Hallows Eve. Hmph…. Okay…. I suppose y’all would like me to make some comment, or acknowledgment of the day…. Well, if I must….

There…. No one can say I didn’t acknowledge the holiday. And, just so it’s done, the picture came from the Animal Pictures of the Week in the London Daily Telegraph, last week. I am seriously hoping I don’t see any kids in costumes tonight, as my inner curmudgeon isn’t in the mood for frivolity just now…. An episode of SS/b (Screaming skeleton/bones…. severe arthritic pain in my hips shoulders, joints, and neck…. i.e., everywhere there is a bone, it hurts….), which built up yesterday, near the end of the day, stimulated the inner curmudgeon sufficiently, he was able to take over the wheel of this bus…

In fact…