Today was, for all kinds of reasons and many years ago, an important day in this life. I don’t have very many of those, and my way of dealing with momentousness is to find writing that will remind me of the day (so here we go again).

Out of the chaos of my doubt
And the chaos of my art
I turn to you inevitably
As the needle to the pole
Turn-as the cold brain to the soul
Turns in its uncertainty:
So I turn and long for you;
So I long for you, and turn
To the love that through my chaos
Burned a truth,
And lit my path.

— Peake

The poem is for someone without whom this blog would never have been conceived, let alone executed; he handles all the melancholy writer blues I invent in spades with remarkable aplomb (and then cleans up after me). Living with me is never easy, and heaven help anyone who does so voluntarily.

The songs are for laughs.