If You Like What You Read

Sunday, November 6, 2011

And So The Story Begins...

Can I write my way out of hell? Can we escape damnation by sheer wit? I think not. Not that I'm even offering that. Mark Twain said wit knows that his place is at the tail of the procession. I have no idea what that the hell that means, but figure I'd get street cred for dropping the old geezer's name. I don't know, maybe it has something to do with hindsight being twenty-twenty? In any case, all I can offer is a first-hand account of someone slowly losing their mind. Don't know if that's anything like losing your religion, but the song seems like an appropriate soundtrack more times than not lately about my days behind bars. And don't get me wrong, anyone who writes anything from a cozy little seaside bungalow can't really complain about anything. Still, it might be interesting to review the process of just how one got there.