Woe is I...

Using recycled image because Photoshop burped and would not save today's rendering. Kind of follows, it is that kind of time for the cow woman. Every so often, without any real reason, depression descends, and there I am, at the bottom of that hole, again. So I sit here, noodling around with the computer, mindless games, mostly, and listening to this schizophrenic radio station that plays both classical and soundtracks. I heard some Danny Elfman music, he's Tim Burton's guy, then an achingly lovely Chopin scherzo, followed by John Williams magical Harry Potter, and then some Satie, which at best is weird, and can be downright disturbing. Okay, this too shall pass. Perhaps, though, this time, I will get a ride on the A train, and do some THERAPY. Oh, lord. That means paying someone to sit on their couch, rip all the scabs off the old wounds, and bleed all over the place. Somehow, my wounds just don't seem to go away. And this has been a year fraught with change, always a catalyst for sturm und drang. Well, whatever. It is what it is.