Perhaps there isn't much more to dredge up. Or maybe there is. Of course all of this never happened. This is all just the diary of a present day mad man. The only persons who need read this are those who occurred in it. But as it is all just a fiction my mind has made up for some elaborate reason you are wasting your time reading this. Unless of course what I wrote is about you. But it isn't. But if it is then I do want to hear from you. Which was the point of this entire blogette from the get-go. But we both know you don't exist anymore than these recorded moments existed.
So what is it like to live with such fantasies of the mind. Mostly I just battle keeping a grip on reality with a form of tinnitus that comes and goes and drives me bat shit cuckoo when it kicks into gear like a Cuban embassy office in my head. I should just blame that on these spooks but real or not I like them too much. Need and needed them. I now see them as trans-dimensional types - they are gone now and now I am too far gone to matter. Like my house and neighborhood I too am long past my use by date. Expired. Retired. Forgotten.
Cold cased as I am...
And now having lost my mind I don't know what is real or what was real. I no longer know if what I long for - a reunion of sorts is even possible if this is all just the fragmentary remains of a shattered mind and life. If all that I have written didn't happen then I have to doubt even if I am writing this or if it is in fact writing itself.
