Long Distance Memory Loser

Why I write:
It's because I feel like it. A fish needn't justify why it finds itself in water, when there is no more natural thing in the world.

This isn't meant for you. It never was. This is my playground, where my mind can skip-rope through the days and hours. While it is fun to watch, the line between fact and fiction is sometimes drawn, but I will never say where. This is my playground, I do not feel like saying where it starts and where it ends, where the edges of reality brush up against my own fanciful fantasies or dark visions.

Those who would read this as if it were a gospel to read through my life should recall their own childhoods in the schoolyards, and think of all the things they did when released for that deliciously small amount of free time. They should recall that not every game played as a child was innocent, but it's not polite to trial them now.

This rambling sojourn, now well into its third year of life, is not a testament to my life, though it may very well contain pieces of it. It is not the key into the deepest recesses of my being - a rare glimpse only seen after knowing me, in person, for years.

I hold no great or enduring love for the words and pictures that adorn these pages, but rather the freedom they grant me.