The final chapter of The Pastel Cowboy has been posted and all the strings were tied into pretty bows.

There are five more chapters of Tim and the Corsair, which will be posted in the next couple months.

Unfortunately, the Kevin project or whatever else is to follow Tim is still in the development stage, or worse.

My life right now has been reduced to what happens today, or worse, what happens this moment.

A good day means exercising, bathing, putting on clothes, and going out of the house to the Mexican restaurant or the store.

An okay day means going into my room and working on a writing project like Pastel, Tim, or hopefully, the new story.

A bad day is spent in bed, mostly asleep. Yesterday was almost bad day, saved only by sending Pastel to Joe so he could do the magic wand trick.

So far, in the past month, I've had maybe five good days.

Today maybe a good day. I woke up early and, although I'm exhausted, I am writing this, I did the announcement for Pastel, and I do want to work on Kevin. I plan on exercising, bathing, putting on something spiffy, and going out somewhere. I can't go far because I'm still not supposed to be driving (anything) and the wife won't let me.

I'm not certain the Citalopram is working much more than keeping those "bad" thoughts at bay. I hardly ever have them, but I'm still scared of having a spur of the moment decision at the wrong time. Just being is quite difficult sometimes.

I am keeping my recovery journal, though; and, I'm reading Bradshaw looking for a magical cure to the rattling skeletons in my closet. The counselor is great and I think she's honestly trying to help me realize I'm not the worthless sack of shit I was raised to be. No matter what they say, ridicule is not what a kid wants to hear, especially if it's coming from a parent or other family member.

I want you to have a good day. I know I'm going to try to. And, tell someone you love them, even if it's just your cat.