Parsing the crepuscular narrative

Or, coruscating in purgatory.

I live in a pyramid. Some days just travel along a continuum of gray. Others are just cold and windy. Then the disc golf, or primal kitchen percussion parties commence. Sometimes we ride bikes, no matter the temperature, past the final concert hall played by Buddy Holly. We've still got pumpkins waiting to be carved, seeds needing to be roasted and a mouse that needs a comeuppance in the walls. And Super Grover is going to pay a visit.

After close to 5 months at it, I maintain hope that I will sleep for more than 4.5hrs in one go.

There exists a terminable time frame to be out here, but the actual remaining penance has yet to be disclosed.

Knowing that in the end, there is a goal to all of this, albeit modified, is motivation, when reminded.

To wit

Semantics

Timing: An awkward start, due to its metaphysical root. Alter two days/weeks/months around and life could be completely different. Awkward.

Tacit: The assumption that what is left unspoken does not lead to other assumptions.

Ultimatum: A sometimes necessary, but necessarily arbitrary time frame by which one must make a Decision (see below).

Should: A falsely held belief that the self or others or life play out in a determinedly, internally idealized manner.

Regret: A non-existent idea or a capitulation towards a passive rather than a proactive approach to life.

Decision: Excluding the ~2% of the time where one's head is stuck up one's own ass, the best possible choice made at any given time considering as many variables as possible. Should it result that the former was the culprit or that the best possible choice turned out to be wrong in retrospect, refer to "Regret."

Bye, TX

George Hamilton, IV... You, good sir, are a liar. Or have a different set of values than I.

So, though you had a few fine things to offer - solace with a lovely dog listening in on guitar and xylophone duets on a ranch, an unusually large number of good coworkers passing through and an unprecedented amount of disc golf, I bid you a belated adieu. You provided this only after relenting from giving me one of the most politically charged and psychologically exhausting jobs in recent memory. You coupled this with my loathing of hotels to prevent my seeing the clear cutting of a forest that was a plan. My happiness lies not with you. A traffic engineer, culture, geologic upheaval or a soul would all lead to vast improvements.

In proper 'Atta boy sandwich style, I did appreciate the little things. Apologies to the arachnids, mud daubers and stick bugs that did not make the cut. Apology retracted for the mud daubers; you are vile terrible creatures.

So, again: