Late August

“Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar… Man the sum of his climactic experiences… the sum of what you have… carried tediously to an unvarying nil… stalemate of dust and desire.” from The sound and Fury by William Faulkner…

Interesting that I should remember that passage just now as the darkness of an August night at home brings with it thoughts and memories in a melancholic mist filling my head. Not far off will be the celebration of another year of my existence, one I hope to keep limited to a few glasses of Irish whiskey, a playlist of decades old ballads and perhaps a fine slab of burnt beef. In the past year the days have seemed to grow longer and more tiresome with fewer shining lights and more oppressive clouds obscuring and dulling the brilliance that was promised with the rising sun. I suppose that’s the price one pays for choices made and paths taken… seemingly to have resulted in the dust and desire instead of something much more rewarding...