I do apologize . . .

I'm afraid I'm in one of those moods tonight.

It has been one of those days where I realized that every aspect of my life--from the huge, earthshatteringly important, to the trivial, ninety-nine cent stuff--is in the process of warping beyond recognition.

This wouldn't be so bad if these changes were for the better. Or if at least a couple of them were. But they're not. Not to me.

Some of it is inevitable, like Atari getting older. It's getting more and more difficult to get him to get up and move. His arthritis.

Some of it's work. I'm going to be relocating in a few months and I'm dreading that. Plus, my job by its very nature changes constantly.

Mostly it's just something that's been buried deep inside me, a hope for something, that is finally dying. This is hard, as you can imagine, and I'm struggling with it. It was a foolish, forlorn hope, true, and I realize that, but still, it was hope, and one I realize now was false. That's gone, now.

This makes me sad. I went out behind my apartment building just now and smoked a cigarette--the weather right now is cloudy, the wind is howling, and while I was back there I could not see another person. Nor could I hear anybody. It was like I was the last person left on a chilly, desolate world. I realized then that I've been having dreams that reflect that reality almost every night. My subconcious, as usual, was there ahead of the rest of me.

Still, I'll eventually emerge from this funk. Or maybe not. Maybe it's better this way.