My dog, the great Captain Reginald died today. I dug his grave. I didn't think 23 was old enough to be digging graves, but I was wrong. I'm wrong about a lot of things. He was a fantastic beast; as pretty in death as he ever was in life. I loved him. I love him still. I shall miss him. I fear that I shall not be half as interesting without him.
A lot's happened since I've been back and not all of it has been good. Some of it has been downright horrible. Blogging isn't convenient anymore. Or it isn't as convenient as it was, and I expect it to grow more difficult still. But there's this thing I do, that I do well. I do it so well that I'm quite certain that it's what I want to do. I'm not sure where it's going, or what I will be doing in a year, or even a month, but all of that is inconsequential. So, I shan't let anything stop me. I'll keep at it until I'm well and truly spent. I'll yell at the heavens and rant and rave until I haven't got a rant or a rave left in me.
Since it seems that the Universe is hell bent on shitting on me - God knows the untimely departure of Reggie was a step to far - I'll shit right back at it. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't tired.
Goodnight, Travel Well,
I love you
Also, for those of you that know me and know me quite well, do not be a bastard and tell my sister about this. I shall do it myself in my own time. I know this seems like an unreasonable demand to make, but I'm making it anyway. I will demand this one indulgence from you and you will give it.