Today I wake up and my heart is full of hope. The dream lives on, though in somewhat mutant and amorphous form. Don't count anything out just yet, my buddies. Don't count anything out. As I noted somewhere down below, melancholy sometimes puts me in a fighting mood. Not in a mean sense, but in the sense of a pure and noble and truly righteous crusade. It's the irish in me for sure.

The difficulty is that I'm acutely aware that nothing can really be done alone. If it tought me nothing else, I learned that the hard way in college. As an island, man is ineffectual. I am a monkey, and monkeys are social animals. It's in our DNA to group up and collaborate. I'm done fucking around. I want the real deal now, and I'm not going to settle for anything less. It may be that this whole relationship thing will have to go on the back burner for a spell. But the bottom line is that I'm not interested in accepting any second-prizes.