Missives from the Hinterlands

Julius Caesar was an ice-cold bastard. With one step across the Rubicon, he set into motion forces that would change the world irrevocably. He gave no speeches, held no rallies; he just muttered three simple words: "alia iacta est." It takes some balls to compare civil war and the strong possibility of a gruesome death with the a toss of a die, but there you have it.

Of course, we all know how it turned out for him.

No point to this. Just a stray thought on a gray, winter's day.

It's only when the shit hits the fan that you realize how ugly things have gotten. I have no explanation for my current state, but I'm being forced to concoct one. Right now, I'm leaning toward an insanity defense. However, as any lawyer worth his salt will tell you, that's a tough nut. Therefore, I may just throw myself on the mercy of the court.

Whatever happens, I realize this is my own fault. Hopefully, whatever higher power judges these things will take into account that I've done everything motivated by the best intentions.

Yeah, the same intentions that pave the road to hell . . .

Jesus, I'm fucked.

For the most part, I don't give being alone much thought. The days pass too quickly and there's too little time to consider anything beyond the next step. However, occasionally something happens that throws the emptiness into stark focus. It can be a stray note or smell or the way the light plays in a strange woman's hair, and, when it happens, the ache makes me catch my breath.

People don't need others to be complete. The "perfect person" is one of the most damaging concepts in society's mythology. However, there's a biological, primal need for companionship that cannot be ignored or completely controlled, and I hate that I don't know what to do with it.