OK

OK. This is a journal. For all intents and purposes, my outlet. So, my apologies if I begin to rant or speak in tongues or mumble and curse at myself. This pixilated real estate is subject to the development of sundry self and social observations, vagrant poetry, and, more likely, as the spirit moves, the vaguely coherent ravings of a once wine-soaked vagabond, now U.S. Infantry soldier and a surprised and often ungrateful recipient of the sangre de Cristo.