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August 17, 2003 a difficult case to make These abrading days of late summer find me half-mad and achy with melancholia.  My brain is like concrete, heavy and gray.  I cannot think, but I can feel.  I wish it were otherwise. I remain on course though my rudder is habit, not principle.  I observe moderation in all things save moderation itself.  It is extreme moderation, the product of fear or dampened spark. Some say 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.  I believe this.  But in these white-hot days, these weighted days, it is a difficult case to make.

©  2003 by the beastmaster