Time presses us. Sometimes softly.  But ever toward  an ultimacy: and/or hard and/or brutal but always mortal.

Sometimes we press back.  Wise men, women have warned that we'll forever lose that battle.  No doubt. 

But when I go, at least I'm going to rip into Time, take a chunk of it with me, make it pay for wanting to fuck.

As Crazy Horse (see profile pic) daily proclaimed: "Today is a good day to die."

He knew well.  Lived well.  Loved well.  And died well.

...just my prelude to a Happy 2006 New Year. 

(if this seems harsh, I'm just trying to shake off the Christmas mush)