Day 43: Monday, Monday….

And so it is, yet another isolated rainy night spent solitary in the currently slumbering City of Wayne, sitting in front of my typewriter and an annoyingly accusatory stack of blank pages waiting impatiently for the company of impressed ink.  Another night and another block of endlessly empty overnight hours spent forsaking the expected tenants of more healthy hygienic concerns for the numbing, temporary promises provided by selfishly imbibing in the nightly ritual of my highly proofed constant companions.  Intentionally not setting the mood with either flickering candlelight, or waftingly aromatic incense curls, but rather settling for the pungent, earthy stink of a constant stream of tobacco burnt in sacrificial regularity to the rhythm of this state-imposed insanity closing in hard. Another night boxed in with …

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