I keep getting hung up on trying to bring back the writing and content from previous versions of this website. Formally established on July 4, 2006, over the past 18-plus years, I think there’s been about a half dozen editions or transformations – with a significant following at times.

I suspect everything got dumped around the time my nephew was murdered. I was not happy. Fucking pisses me off to this day. The event changed me forever. I just didn’t feel like writing anymore. By the way: I’m not my brother. They were stupid. I am lucky. I will visit them one day.

So now, in addition to trying to uncover what’s left around here, I find myself either bored or disgusted. I can’t read much of my old material because it seems trite with hackneyed old sayings and predictable storylines. Reads like a community college creative writing class paper.

My mourning is done. Mourning my nephew; mourning my past; and mourning poor life decisions. My stagnation is over. My paralysis gone. My housecleaning taking place. Fuck it – and fuck them. I’m ready. Ready for a change. Ready for a new direction. Ready to ramble on.

It feels good to lean into the punches – to embrace the emotion. Real good. Who knew taking a thorough inventory, and sharing it with a woman in a shed in a backyard, would be such a cathartic release. No more holding back. No more tickling the tail of a sleeping dragon.

We all have a demon core. A tiny amount of deep emotional material capable of triggering unnecessary provocative action that ignites an unpredictable chain reaction giving rise to destructive forces from which no one may return. Not everything can be fixed, and everything will end.