The Three Heads of Reverdy Johnson

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Suffering cannot be eliminated.



Nor should it be.



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I wish to free myself from the bonds I have been forging around my soul. Or, rather, I want to see the bonds as armor.

I wish for five goddamn minutes I'd just shut the fuck up and live.



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Of course, I live hard. I do. I live like five hundred motherfuckers.



Yes, I am compromised. Flawed. Recalcitrant.



That's fine, though.



I am still a certified bad-ass.




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I'ma go cook the woman on the verge some seared wild-caught salmon and lime and garlic black beans with a spicy mayo dollop on top.



Eat yr hearts out.



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Namaste.



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