Journals of Lord Malinov

the poetry of madness

Who's your Alpha?

That's right, I'm your Alpha now.

There are pitfalls to having a multiplicity of talents.  It has taken me decades to understand that being hung like a horse doesn't force you to make porno.  So to speak.  Where's Johnny Wadd when you need him?

I think the eX is presently in the process of uniting herself with the Alcalde.  Raise a glass and smoke a toast to my personal nemisi.   Under the cloak of darkness they met and planned my destruction.  It would have worked, too, if not for a sense of timing that can only be described in language of the miraculous.  Bleeding and ready to die, I staggered to my feet, defended and prepared, feinted and defeated their paltry attacks.  They embrace in the ruin of their moral ugliness, bearing the horrible weight of sins that deserve no mercy, from me, anyway.

She met the dude, stole my possessions, locked me out of the house and told everyone - our children included - that I left her for someone else. 

Sleep well, my little droogies.  Sleep well.

Some days, this sort of emotional garbage is forced upon me.  If they went away, other protagonists would be bound to follow.  Life without problems would be a dull lot, indeed.  Enjoying the struggle is the secret to endless happiness.

I was created in the forge of their stupidity.  In many ways, I owe them much gratitude.  Without them, I'd never be here.

Church was a nice experience this morning.  My evolution is apparently quite visible, as I am greeted almost constantly as I move through a crowd.   Sometimes I feel as though I am reborn - alive on an entirely new planet - one that is so remarkably simple in the infinites of complexity.  Hah - as though anything could ever be simple. 

I decree a pleasuredome!  Put it by the sacred river. 

Prepare.

M

posted by: Malinov at 11:57 | link | comments |

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