Apologies and confessions

I love my wife. I just can't help it. I think she is stellar: witty, smart, beautiful, loving and a tender hearted mother. I love her with all that I am. I love her so much it hurts. My chest actually aches with overflowing love for her. I think though, that my love must be like dung. Distasteful and foul, malodorous and wretched. I spoil what I touch. I seem to destroy the beautiful and corrupt the innocent with my love. I am a no one and she deserves much more. I am sorry dear for ever hurting you. I am sorry if I spoiled your innocence and covered your radiance. I am sorry if I could never be who you needed me to be. I am simply that, sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me. And I hope one day you can see that I truly loved you; that I have always loved you.

Whats on YOUR mind? Here's what's on mine...

If God could make a mistake, it would be me. I don't think that God would make an obvious mistake (if He made them), but rather the kind of mistake I would represent. I don't think the Down's kid or the disabled guy represent the type of mistake that I do. No, not at all.



I am a fool.

A disaster of neurotic proportion.

I offer a semblance of normality, hiding a pit of failure.

You wouldn't want to get too close, you might fall through the thin layers and lose yourself.

I am an unfullfilled dream.

I am the unintended consequence.

A dung heep, if you will.

I am of the surrender monkey of life.

I am the guy who talks a passable game, but lives in the gutter.

I am the wino that promises he won't use that dollar for cheap wine, then does.

I am PPP, if you get my meaning.

I am a fool.



They say that God doesn't make mistakes. And I believe them. So what happened to me.

Sometimes I wish God would flush the toilet and just be done...