I guess we write to try to make some kind of sense of things. If we can’t be the god of what is happening at least we can be the author of our description of it.

In the last month or so, I haven’t even felt qualified enough to be the author while the gods wreak their havoc.

While I ride the randomness of the Thursdays and the Sundays, I don’t trust Life, I don’t trust you, I don’t trust me, and I don’t trust that compass with the spinning needle.