There was a time (ah, the tortured clarity of youth...) when everything mattered. The smallest dark moment could expand into something that could take on it's own identity and stomp around in my head like a drunken giant for days. But really, for what? I had the blind good fortune of being born into the last decadent
moments of this rapidly eroding first world bacchanal, am about to consume a warm wild-caught salmon salad and my friend is making me laugh.
Rome is burning you say? Get me my fiddle!!!!