ON LOVE — When It WINS, In The **End** ;0)

Reflection from July 1st, 2017 @ Age 36




Where, oh where to begin?




Essentially, at the end of April here this past Spring, a bunch’a shit happened…


Let’s see…

Well, first, actually, I’d just like to note that I’ma writin’ here, in a brand spankin’ new journal today ;oD

I got it from John and (notably ;0) <3 Sam—fer ma birth day (last month—on the 20th).  Which, really, believe it or not—means it arrived into ma hands, in a very timely fashion.  DUE, that is—to all the aforementioned shit, that’s recently happened.  And it’s just as well, I think—given my achievement of 36 years’a life on this planet.  I’m not sure that make any sense, as of yet—from your perspective, if you know what I mean.  But, rest assured, in due time, my dear friend—all that I have here to relay, will be relayed, and at that point in time, it’ll all make complete sense.


Let’s see though, here, in the meantime—what the front’a this ‘ere journal actually says.  One sec…

[lime green background]

[in big, bold, progressively larger, all white caps:]


[in small and progressively smaller orange text—with the one-soul-exception of the word journal, which appears in white:]

A journal to reassure

myself when I’m overwhelmed

by the creeping sense of impending

disaster and the all-encompassing fears both

specified and vague that colonize my mind, body, and

soul, all of which, from the completely far-fetched to the the sometimes

probable, do me no good to contemplate and in fact make me miserable, even though

optimism may be unsell-aware and ill-placed, I know I’ll be happier as a blind fool than a clairvoyant apocalyptic.


Well, given the state of America’s affairs—seems pret-ty applicable, doesn’t it?


Well, in any case, BOY’ve I missed writing!!!!!!!  And, I’m so super grateful to have this ‘ere new journal—‘cause a fresh, new start from my brand spankin’ new 36-year old p.o.v. perspective, is just what I needed.


All that aside, however, truth be told—I have absolutely, positively, no idea where to begin ;oD

Story of my life, folks ;oD

So, fear NOT!


I was actually just in the middle of trimming my cuticle and prepping the ol’ 36-year old nails here, for paint.  O.P.I. Hello Kitty Collection—‘5 Apples Tall’ color a’paint.

So, on that note, suffice it to say—it all began with the release of Kendrick Lamar’s Damn. album, back on Good Friday.  Forward on now, into the present, however—what, with painting my nails.

I’ll be BACK.



All my Love,



Ahh yes, before I forget—the gift of support for my creative endeavors (a.k.a. this journal) came, curiously soon after I’d revealed my experience with psychiatric wards, to Sam.  Well, ward—I could say.  Just, Riverside—September 2014.  Lol ;oD

Strike that!  Just Riverside, September 2012—I’m confusing my dates!  One week stay at Riverside Psychiatric Ward, circa September 2012—psychological recalibration at home by my lonesome—November 2014.


What a ride!  Anyway…

I asked her if John’d told her and he hadn’t—so I did, and that was that!

And then, a couple weeks later I went downtown and stayed with John and Sam—and out we went to Marcella’s in the Short North, fer ma birth day dinner ;oD

And, that’s the gist of it.  The point being, however—it made me laugh when I (eventually) put 2 and 2 together ;0)

What with the psych. ward revelation and subsequent receipt of this particular journal—from John and Sam, at my birthday dinner.

My story (of life) is so very complex, at this point—it’s kinda become impossible ta keep track’a who knows what.  Not ta even mention—from where, to what extent, etc. etc.!

That’s the beauty’a bein’ a creative nonfiction writer, though—isn’t it?


The burden is no longer on me, ta keep everyone else straight.  And, I have to say—I absolutely, positively and without a doubt, do love it.  To be a writer.

A real live writer, I am.


Love, love, love it!