You might have noticed a shift in tone in yesterday's post. Admittedly, it was something the nightshift churned out. Typically, I am a morning writer. See, the morning looks toward the future and generally it is an optimistic take; we tend to think our flipping my classic sci-fi toggles and rolling my black and white dials will be changes for the better.

As the evening shades overtake us in a nightly metaphor of our own existence, I am far more retro-introspective. Perhaps that is why I once made a habit out of going to bed at 7:30 PM to wake again at 2:30 AM...though the night has always been my favorite. Is there anything better than an autumn night with gusts of wind? Nostalgia...

You can have your springs and summers. Give me fall. And while December remains my favorite month, Death roams the streets of winter nights.

No, I choose brighter tomorrows. There are future friends of cherished camaraderie. I want to be part of something driving toward an objective as iron sharpens iron.

A consistent component of this is something I have missed in these Expeditions 1-38. Not that it is required for weightloss, but would I have the points of failure when I snapped 100s of days long streaks?

Who do you need?
Who do you love
When you come undone?

Duran Duran, Come Undone (1993)