My Neck A Rusted Hinge

Forget my work schedule. Forget the writing projects or my self-pity and self-loathing. Its been truly hideous here with the weather here, tomorrow again dropping to twenty below, making my last post of Heston on the beach idyllic. If the fall of Western civilization is pending, count me in but only if its warm. I've had nothing to post worth saying. My concentration scattered by any number of neural responses to my body's movements, walking across the surface of an empty moon. Thing is, there are homeless people too proud to leave the cold for at least one night. I can see their collective mindset in that I, too, like to meet madness on my own terms, but the homeless ghosts of the city have always one-upped me. They are braver souls than I'll ever be...Wayne