Dreams of heaven, dreams of hell.

More of the second variety actually. Long, confusing, tiresome dreams full of ill omens.

I have started writing again. Late at night, when I can hear my inner voice clearly. It's not easy, yet unless I write, it won't be written. And I cannot have that.

It's a game, and therefore I decide what to be. I choose the mask. I call the shots. Then luck and life and death throw the dice and laugh at me and each other. 

Second time I am finishing a book.

Second time I am finishing a game.

Two different games have been paused, or finished. The trio of above players will decide. 

Twos are good. Everything is good. As I said, it's a game. I need the harlequin mentality more than ever. Time to call upon my dearest Lash. Lash is a fictional character. Lash is I. Lash is a harlequin. Lash exists outside time. And time is out there to get me.

I need to speak with that barbarian friend of mine concerning blood and entrails. He can help me. He always does help me. I cannot complain. His help is invaluable. His love is also invaluable. I never take people's devotion for granted. I have seen the opposite too, far too often. And more often than not, from so-called friends. :) That's people for you.

I love being me, I just wish I had intelligent company more often.

All good things come to an end, all good things are given to me in small amounts.

I will work on that.

Promise.