Aposematic.

Slip-sliding to work in the dawning light it dawned upon me the futility of my position, that neither abject begging and pleading nor silent wishin' and hopin' can change a person's mind once made up good and for all, and at this conjunction junction there is a choice to be made. Left or right, forwards but not backwards, sit down right goddamned here and pout--I know what I want but not the trail to take me there. Were it written in the constellations under other circumstances surely I could find my way, star chart in one hand, an ice-cold can of Steel Reserve in the other, but sadly these city lights wash out all evidence of that ancient wisdom. Were it written in the sand I could etch the sketch in my memory, tuck it away with sea glass and rotting sargasso, but sadly that beach has been washed away by the years passed since my youth. Hold on for dear life or let go for good I do not know; all I know is that I cannot read the signs that must surely be there.

Workwise it is becoming increasingly clear that I have won a battle royale, battle not in my eyes but a battle nevertheless. I could rest on my laurels and pat myself heartily backside but I do not feel like a winner. That I could see the big picture when my erstwhile opponent could not has been obvious to me for some time, that he now resents me for it is uncomfortable to say the least. But boss I am today if only for the day, and I will be gratefully accepting accolades into the evening should they come my way.

My birthday passed in sickness and in health, and Lord, I did not see another soul but Seth's--not counting Marcus or Brian who deserve to be counted excepting of course that they only see me as half. But assuming weather cooperates a scant handful of friends will meet me on the Mall, will break bread and drink wine from a box (both red and white), will shower me with accolades that I will gratefully accept only these 24 hours, that this first day of the next 365 should be better than the day before. This day I will hope that you have not made up your mind, that the map back home is forthcoming, that I can look forward to resting my head in your lap or wrapping my bruised legs around your hips once more. Today I will indulge in optimism, for tomorrow I drown.