Nightstalker

Soundtrack:

My eyes open from what feels like a hundred years of solitude and sleep clinging to my bones.
I am hungry b/c I didn't eat after getting off work downtown last night.
I got home by *am and got **** and drifted off to a deep sleep that was restful physically but I awoke with that nagging sense that my subconscious had more to manifest in dream format as catharsis. I've been out hunting and looking for some fresh-faced new ingénue as of late, but my efforts have met with considerable consternation.

I eat healthy, grab my gear and get some training in despite not having rested but a single day in something like 10 days. I resent myself for letting some dude at work standing in line irritate me to the point I debated provoking him to put his hands on me. Like Spock, I choose to avoid letting my emotions control my actions when possible.

I finish up training and grab a beer and watch some sports that normal guys watch but I find it boring as fuck so I start planning my evening.

It's Father's Day and for a Peter Pan with the checkered past I have with fathers and their absence(s) and questionable example(s) I do my best to avoid the inevitable thoughts.

I feel that familiar boredom that proves the hallmark of long nights and red flags looming on the horizon.
Right now I'm holding the fire in my hand and maintaining control with remarkable precision.

I sit and sip some coffee to take the edge off of my lack of tolerance as I'm a couple beers and a shot deep and it's shy of 6pm which as readers will know, the beginning of drinking before dusk has always spelled disaster for your humble narrator.

This is the moment, the moment in which I decide if I play it safe or roll the dice.
I can tell myself I've changed, that I've gotten wiser, but that will fail to manifest at this time.
Good luck and happy hunting.
I will be out stalking the night, likely to no effect, but life is in the living and the trying.

       - Yrs. in Christ