Illegal Foreign Object

Greetings and salutations, good reader. The last two handfuls of months have been hectic—plenty of good, plenty of bad, but nothing I care to get into right now because we’re all fighting our way through our own bullshit.

I’m a pretty private person. Writing things for public consumption isn’t something I necessarily want, but I’m slowly coming to grips with the idea that it’s something I might need. Also, I was reminded by a respected writer friend that I control the word flow. For someone fairly imbalanced, finding balance will always be a chore, but here I am, trying all over again.

I don’t know exactly what future posts will look like, so we’ll discover this, together (assuming you decide to read, of course). What I do know is that this country is a shit show, dumber and meaner by the second, so I’ll likely be keeping most of my sad stuff away from you. I figure life is hard enough without having to read about someone else’s complaints and concerns.

That said, I’m just spewing words onto a page right now, so I offer no content guarantees. You might hop on here sometime and see my shopping list. Just because.

Just because.

That’s a wrap for now. I’m waiting on a soup delivery to help me kick out of a cold. The sniffling and hacking is real, y’all, but if chicken noodle soup, club crackers, and old Mid-South Wrestling can’t fix me, I’m unfixable.