Working on it. Promise.

Uruk is in it for the long haul! It'll be awhile though. Not sure who I'm typing to anymore, either--nobody reads this!

Another big project coming up, this one I promise I won't abandon.

Maybe.

Not a lot of time or drive for these things anymore, but I'll see what I can do.

Involves Fyooch McAvoy and his various adventures, or adventurous variants, or variable advents, or advantageous variety. Variety hour advanced?

So I'll be workin' on that.

Might take another crack at "Raisins" sometime... maybe....

Plugging out something that feels a little more promising, but that may well be the beery promise brought about by Sam Adams Cream Stout and my deteriorating sleep schedule--the two seem to come together, like a pair of friends at a holiday get-together that you never invite, or even know, but they're there every christmas, making you uncomfortable and afraid, wondering if anyone else can see them or whether you should ask them who they are because you've obviously forgotten, and then somebody taps you on the shoulder from behind and says "hey! you alright?" and you mumble "ahf, mm. yeah." and continue to mill around, eating little cookies and trying to shake off an existential sort of anxiety that you feel you've outgrown. It's childish, you think, to wonder about things like that and get caught in stupid trances like that, but then again, where'd they go? They're not here any more! Your heart starts to race and you feel stupid for repressing what's clearly a real threat to your sanity; this ubiquitous-but-intangible duo. Oh, wait. There they are, talking to each other over egg nog. You start to approach them but stub your toe on the table leg. You yell "FUCK" a little too loud, and there's an embarrassing hush. Everybody looks at you. Somebody says "are you ok?" and you say "yeah" but secretly you wonder if you're ok. You go outside for a few minutes and take a piss in the snow, dumping the rest of your cup of eggnog.

And so there.

Getting my hair cut to match that of Naked Snake, made a headband, going to (maybe, probably not) go to a tanning booth to tan my face into splitter camo, gonna trim my beard down to combat scruff. Huzzah!

Gettin' ready to move on out o' dis house! Fun times! Gotta shove all forty pounds of my belongings into the big duffel bag and then AWAY I GO to parts unknown.