A real post later. And it's a goodun'! Unlike this mildly inebriated rambling.
Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"
My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.
Wow. That was like the anti-NaBloPoMo, wasn't it? No posts for full month and then some.
A lot's happened, let me tell you.
And I have a file of unfinished posts. They kept crowding each other out. And studying crowded everything out.
I could tell you about the televised autopsy with the doc who has to be Herr Toht from Raiders of the Lost Ark. He even wears Indy's hat while he's sawing open the body, I swear to the God of the Covenant.
I could tell you about the real autopsy. The 94-year old woman on the table.
I could tell you how it feels to hold a human bone in your hands; a vertebrae, a tiny marvel of architecture, and wonder who it belonged to, where the rest of the bones are, if anywhere anymore, and to feel an overwhelming sadness.
I could tell you about my birthday. Not much there though. I'm older now.
I could tell you my theory on entanglement, how there are people in your life whom you will never shake, who come back through the oddest circumstances. Suddenly I have three of these.
Oh yeah. And I don't think I'm going to become a sonographer at the moment. I have very little chance of getting into the program. So, I'm looking at other things...
What else? What else?
What do you want to know?
Hell, let's open this right up. Ask me anything.