my life is traditionally marked with a hollow ring of disquiet. my certainty that things arn't the way they are supposed to be, not even a little. not like there is a minor detail that is omitted, nothing as small & ominous & twilight zone as that. that would almost be a comfort, a cheery blaze to warm my hands against & roast chestnuts upon. no, i'm talking a big phillip k. dick level fuck-up, i'm talking flaws in the fundamental nature of existance. so of course i get my war on, et cetera, but that isn't the point. just, lately it hasn't been as pins & needles. having an anchor actually helps. a salve i've had, a balm, but this girl, she's like silver bullets against werewolves, mystical & effectual. pretty creepy, actually. waking up mornings without my guts pouring out of my mouth, without trying to cough up my stomach so i can turn into a bird. things are going great & it is all her fault.