Last for the night.

 I drew first blood, I started the pages... I led my way forward and I made the difference in and of all of the things that were and could be. 

The writing makes me sane, by pouring out insanity onto the page, I am left with a mind of reason and intellect. What? I don't know.

But maybe it does make a little sense. Perhaps it does, in its own little way. A perverse kind of sensicalness. These things that sneak up on us out of nowhere, these items that fall away and full release and show the difference of all these things. And all we are trying to say and do... I am large... especially in the belly... and that means I can easily have a heart attack, or a stroke... anything... I could be laid down to rest any day now... but I know what I must do. I know what I must do now... I must... I must... fight against my poor habits, create new and better ones.

This is a beginning - to write daily, to get some words on the page, maybe not toward anything, but just in general, getting words down on the page... these are the things... the things indeed.

Now, there is a sleeping dog on the couch. These things.

All of this is for making something important now and through the world... all of it... all of it.

Now, what matters in and around the group of things here and there? Am I done? Am I finished? I think I am. I think I have reached the end of the words for the night. I made good progress, but I have a many a word to write in the morning. I hope I will have the time to get the writing done, or I will make the time. These are the things... make the time... make the time.

Do I? Will I?

I don't really know... I don't really know any of this... any of these answers.... any of these things... I just don't know. Still hungry, going to get something to eat, signing off for the night. Goodbye.