This December is unlike any other. Totally underwhelming, more melancholic than celebratory. It has nothing to do with age, achievement or affiliation. Its just nothingness.
A sabbatical seemed a good idea. The harshness of long winter nights might ignite some sparks into the lifeless. An empty bed would suffice as well. You can never be lonely when you're self absorbed. The paradoxes, life offers.
I just wish my mind would rest. I was solving some business issues in my sleep. Actually, I'm not even sure I was asleep. The concept of working cant be noble if it takes more than it gives. I must surely make more without work then. A successful career is just a prefabricated metaphor for those without a calling in life.
My most constant relationship is with a good scotch. Simple, pure and consistent to the last drop. If only we could bottle and duplicate that to the relationships we weave that invariably becomes too intricate. Perhaps, I'm the confused one. Complexity is apparently cherished.
I should end this sorry reason for a post with my best wishes. I think I will.
FUCKING GOOD RIDDANCE 2005!