I set my domain name to not auto-renew and cast this site aside. I thought I was done with writing these words, words that began even before this blog’s 2002 release, a myriad of words lost by technical catastrophes. I felt I was done speaking.

And yet, I find a special place for this leather journal upon a worn bureau in the candlelit study of my mind.

I pick up its inked pages, wince at some of the writing and wane wistfully from others. These are what remains of all the words I have written.

Yes, this is my place in the woods of the Internet. May it never resemble the focus of the heavy traffic thoroughfares. May it forever be a place of solace out in the country.

There's a certain element of not wanting to write, not wanting to spend time alone at the desk to recognize how I could have done things better and meet the challenges required in addressing future setbacks, the system required and so forth. How easy it is to shove it off to the next day!

Tomorrow's sunrise will be a new day; I will be who I want to be. And in my time, will show this to be true. I will be the carnivore who has replaced his morning cup of joe with a cup of Joe the Cow. I will live the cauldron life.

I look at what the world champions...you can count me out on THAT—I don't want any part of it! In like fashion, I don't want my phone buzzing me about this or that. If I get a call from a friend, I'd gladly answer it—who does that anymore?

Sadly, we're all just a bunch of virtualized people, a series of Photoshopped avatars with our domain controllers instructing us about our network and our place on it. I long to move away from a life planned with and by a computer to one with a couple sheets of graph paper with a pencil in hand.