suspicion

I think there’s a famous film called that; and if there isn’t, there should be.  And if there is, it’s clearly not famous enough for my search engine-addled mind.

Yeah.  OK.  I am a suspicious soul, and today I have lashed out unreasonably.  And yes, I have lashed out.  And for my anger, I am entirely to blame.  The world can be a bastard, as last night it was; as over the past few weeks since my birthday in hindsight it clearly has been, but I don’t have to be a bastard back.  Indeed, it is my obligation as a thinking being not to be.

And I have failed this obligation this weekend.  And so I am sorry.  And this sorrow is unreserved.

And, even so, I am unsure who I should apologise to.  I guess those who aren’t bastards, even as they get caught up in my cross-currents of very real anger.  But if I am indeed disabled, my disability lies in not being able to separate minions of a lowly order from bastards of a high.

And so that is my real challenge.

We shall see what tomorrow brings.

Apart from more photos.

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