The year ends, this year of war and murder, of malfeasance and corruption, of the harpies and vultures of consumerism and greed coming home to roost.
Anyway. I was thinking about a dream I used to have. This particular one came into spiritus mundi when I was in junior high, all bowl haircut and thick tortoise-shell glasses and D & D and hormones, all of which informed this particular dream. It's pretty straightforward: I am staggering along a nameless shore, wearing battered armor, bruised and bloodied, an angry defiant snarl on my face. I drop to my knees and plunge my sword into black sands, howling as I do so. Then I wake up.
2008, ending with bangs and many, many whimpers. Explosions and cries. A bleak finish to a generally bleak 365 days.
And yet.
