I keep asking myself: Who the hell am I? I'm nobody. I'm not special. I didn't ask for this (well, not per se). So why did it happen to me? I still can't explain it. (quote unquote) God is my witness, I still reel sometimes to remember it.

How you dream of better days.  There's a din on the horizon, a haze of speculation, of unfulfilled catastrophes that wait out there for...

What sweet sensations can envelope what's happened in these plaster-filled years?  It can't be done.  There can be no textual...