So I’ve been writing all night, but not here. If you’re interested in reading my trip reports for this weekend, you can follow these linqs:
Hunter & SW Hunter (Catskills) on Saturday
Tabletop & Phelps (Adirondacks) on Sunday
Maybe I’ll post the full text for tomorrow night or something, but I don’t feel like doing the copy/paste thing right now.
Last night included quite a bit of writing for me as well – but it was email correspondence that you’re not privy to, dear reader. My apologies for that – you know you’re my favorite person to whom to write – but these emails needed to be sent, as they were to people I care about (just like you).
Anyway, things are still wicked icky at work. Rumors abound, and peace, love and brotherhood are nowhere to be found. I’m re-reading Sun Tzu’s Art of War and keeping my head down because I’m currently an indian in a tribe of chiefs.
I’ve not been sleeping all that well, but whatever. I think the ghost in my apartment is picking up on my anxieties and f*cking with me for fun. That’s fine; I’ll get it back when I’m feeling a bit more in control. We have that kind of relationship.













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