You probably think this post is about you

At times the only solace one may be able to take from the act of severing a relationship is recognizing that the excision could have happened later. Meaning the more time cultivating and making a concerted effort one puts in, the more of a waste of one’s life it was had the doomed eventuality have come at a later date.

Hasta mañana, peace, As-salamu alaykum, later. 

I’ve sat here for a bit trying to figure out exactly it is I’m trying to type out. I have a lot I want to say but it’s not coming out coherently. Additionally a lot of it likely would come across as reading rather negatively. 

As Bill Murray would say “Don’t drive angry.” Seeing how it is x-mas eve, I’ll take Bill’s advice.

Have a good whatever it may be you celebrate. 

Fever Ray

My immune system an asshole at best and downright staging a full mutiny at it’s worst.

Basically the damage done to my lymphatic system from cancer as well as the chemo leaves the barn door open for whatever pestilence and infection that wants their way in to my body.

So, yeah… Sick for xmas this year. Good times… 

Good times.

To Do:

I figure if I publicly state what I’d like to accomplish then maybe I will feel more accountable to put some effort in to productivity. 

  1. Write this list. 
  2. Actually refer to this list. 
  3. Finish xmas shopping. 
  4. Less BJJ more powerlifting. 
  5. Reach out to old friends.
  6. Less hermitude more shows (Converge next month). 
  7. Swallow pride and see the neurosurgeon about my back. 
  8. Stop being hypercritical over matters I cannot affect. 
  9. Less delivery/more cooking. 
  10. Plan for my next visit of Iceland. 
  11. Consider another degree. 
  12. Write, even blog daily, consistently. 
  13. Get back to my book-per-day reading pace. 
  14. Less listing/more doing. 

If you don’t see me actively perusing any of these items, I implore and give you free reign to call me on my shit or slap the shit out of me (free of retaliation, I pinkie swear).

You and you and you and I

I don’t know what the hell is going on with my interpersonal relationships lately. It’s like I’ve lost a step along the way here and I’m slogging through with a marked disadvantage when it comes to dealing those around me. The same people where I once had such an ease and comfort in how we communicated.

But everything is just… off. And now frustration sets in, and now complacency sets in, and now I Don’t Give a Fuck Any Longer rears its head – and when that monster shows up, taking the form of writing someone out of my life for good, I know I’m riding the spiral downward. 
I’m just going to not make any rash decisions while I’m in this state. That’s pretty much the only tactic that’ll save and/or salvage what relationships I have left. For now.

Golden Dawn to Golden Dusk

Inevitably in the form of cancer came for my dog Beau (Beauregard) this week. I lived through my traitorous DNA clusterfuck, he will not. Today he will be euthanized.

It just fucking had to lymphoma too… 

Beau is such a sweet and gentle being. He’s been loved beyond measure since we brought him and his litter-mate sister, Annie, home twelve or so years ago.

Beau’s last day.

It had to be lymphoma, didn’t it?

Valhalla, he is coming.

Valhalla hann er að koma.

Ég elska þig, Beau.

Neglect et al…

I’m sorry, I’ve spent so much time working on your backend that content has been relegated to an afterthought. That’s not to say I don’t have big things planned for you, boo. On the contrary – I have so much original music, blog posts and general fuckery just waiting on deck.

It’s just… I’m a perfectionist, dear And the context of your content matters to me, my little one. So, rest easy and know I’m nearly done with your window dressing and adornments. You’ll soon be finished.

With all due sincerity, your creator,


Self, winter 2017