scared to be alone.

Back in the dark times, there was never anything better than being left to my own devices.  The anticipation of Continue reading →

heavy is the head that’s full of itself.

My brain is trying to kill me. That’s what my stinking-thinking’s all about.  I mean, to drink is to die, Continue reading →

down – home cookin’.

Let’s rewind the clocks to not so long ago.  My skull is a crock pot.  My brain is a rump Continue reading →