Spellbound in Indiana

An obligation to post, also called a mild obsessive compulsive necessity, has been haunting me for about 15 minutes. That's not bad. Fifteen minutes I mean. It appears that, at best, my posting comes in spurts of about 3 a week, then none for a long time. It's only my compulsion that creates a new post. In my mind, my family will pay a dear price if I do not post. This is torture at best. Posting things to a mostly blind readership in an infinite internet world of bullshit is nearly meaningless, but it feels right. I do things that feel right. Sometimes, at best. There is nothing real to discuss here today. Nothing at all. The fortune of man rests in his morals. His wealth is not his until it's no longer another man's debt. That's what Craig Ferguson said on his late night show, in a bad dream that I had last night. It makes sense I guess. I have two cats now, one of them black. Sometimes people do creepy shit to black cats around Halloween. We won't be letting ours out of the house.