Yes, I have many bruises now, physically, though, for once I might say, not mentally. The only real qualm I have is that it snowed yesterday, and I absolutely am disgusted to no end, of the constant appearance of more drifts and mountains of snow outside my cold-clear window. You might think, this being the month of May, that what with global warming, El Nino, current technological advances, and the use of snowblowers as well as God, we might not get 8 inches of snow on a day's notice. What an interesting thought. Mayhaps I shalt pursue it.

One or the Other,
She Dareth not choose.
For One's displeasure,
The Other to Lose.

My poem, dedicated to Katie and told to Missy, made up on a whim whilst sitting amidst the crowning glories of pillows, blankets, and other accoutrments of comfort that lay piled about on Katie's bed, me trying to make up a sign, this medley of phrases popping into my head, and composing themselves itno a piece of art worth writing down.

Miss'a party tonight... What a concundrum. to go or not to go. Of course I'm going. Duh! Friends. Party with music, no less. Joe and Chris, possibly, probably Richie, as well as others whom I know not whether she invited. Presents already given, whilst others wait to be opened, sitting in their gaily wrapped paper on the counter, work waiting for me to call.

A sigh of tedium, as she makes the poetry go round and round, waiting, waiting, for the school to be getting out, the movie playing across the room, divided with a red wall of fabric, a brown chair waiting her arrival, and a plop! People home now, waiting for her to talk, as she sits silent and wondering, waiting, debating.

So many people, so many people... All hating, all loving, all waiting. Waiting for what, may you ask? Waiting for the light, the light to pass. What light? Might I question? Pardon me, you're not a crusader. Crusading for truth, for peace, for love. What are these things you speak of? Peace is a mystery, unknown to man, unable to be had, a dream to apprehend. Truth is a fact, jsut waiting for you, waiting to be grabbed, waiting for some glue, to put to gether the pieces of a rattled world, a distant lifestyle, jsut day-dreamed. Love? Now... Love is Hatred, taken by one, to bind to another. Without hate, there would be no love, jsut as without darkness, there would be no light at the end... of the tunnel, perhaps? Or something deeper, darker? The fires of hell? Or the Snow that will never fall therein?

Bruises. The bureau jumped out an grabbed my arm, ate it right from my shoulder! Nahh... Just kidding. It jsut left a couple bruises. I suppose your body gives way much faster than a wooden bureau, huh? Either way, I'm off to a party. JJ's on at the moment, debaitng about my sub-profile, which has nothing in it at the moent., I'm working on it, swear!