I think I am writing here to intercede silence. Maybe, to register tonight as a special occasion for reviewing my past. Bonesmanbible can be read as a discursive field, an archaelogical layer, an episteme. But reading what I wrote some years ago has only demonstrated the failure of memory. Yet, this sort of historiographical understanding tends to preclude some of the more poignant qualities. I wasn't necessarily trying to negotiate a context for my existence, I was just more or less happy to go along with what was presented to me. I don't think I wrote a lot about love, it's bad manners. But it certainly surfaced in many of the entries. In many instances, I would've deride those whose excessiveness generate only maudlin and dramatise substances - words that always fail to take love seriously. But I wrote many of these as well, in highsight. Too much is noted. Too many travails.