Grey Skies Over Virginia

i arrived back at my principle residence in the city at 14.00 hours this afternoon, and regretted having left southern virginia immediately. the dogs were whimpering, the idiot serf woman screwed up her cleaning responsibilities which are almost non-existent anyway, and my old friendly sense of emptiness showed up to hang around for a while.

i don't need to bother with notes about this event or that, or some person or another... they all seem painfully similar after a fashion, and how many times do you need to hear a whiter shade of pale or mr. dylan's dream? perhaps in reality i am an incurable optimist or an insufferable memory-monger that i could allow nostalgia or sentimentality to weigh in so heavy while i am stuck on a provincial road some where... perhaps i have been told my entire life that i am a misanthropic ogre in order to save myself from wallowing in things that happened once and never will again?

i could be considered fiercely loyal, but then i could disappear from your grid and world just as easily. the always hesitant onegin or pechorin, i often have trouble convincing myself to disappear in the dust, but i can never tolerate to revisit people and places that only can remember me in one way for some specific reason. 

i should do well to never have a right to bother people, and they should do well to never bother me.

yours, etc.

Kitaev

"just a face out in the crowd who looks like trouble"