I came this close to begging trisa to hang out with me to-day. Begging. But I didn't. I haven't abandoned you, my little hovering demons and faeries.
And Jack Kerouac hasn't abandoned me. In my moment of doubt, of supreme glum-hood, that great holy goof stepped into my psyche, sat me down and talked me through it. Good, sweet ghosts and goodly spirits--I kiss you and send various love-ness-es.
Fire can burn off all your flesh until you're a disgusting, dripping, blackened mess of gore. But fire can also warm you on cold nights.