(Memoirs of Madness — Return Post)

When my system went down, it seemed like divine intervention—a forced pause. I took the chance to stop fighting the noise and reset my creative energy.

I sat there for a minute, half expecting the room to fill with people saying, “We’re here because we love and care about you. We’re worried. You don’t seem okay.”
Instead, it was just me—and Guppy, staring like she’d seen this movie before.
I muttered my customary “Kick Rocks,” and she gave me that look:
“What’s going on with you, human? Pet me. Feed me. Clean my poop.”

Fair enough.

And because the universe clearly thought I needed a little more chaos, I decided to quit smoking. Yep, that was a moment of brilliance right there, buddy.
I can’t remember the last time I built a machine, wrote a line, or rewired a circuit without a cigarette hanging from my lips or burning down in the ashtray. The old routine: light another while one’s already smoldering, forget which is which, call it inspiration.
Now I’m in the cut back phase. Pray for me, light a candle, or call a hoodoo man to lay down some mojo—I can use all the help I can get.

Somewhere in the middle of all that nicotine withdrawal and digital resurrection, I pulled up the storyboard and looked at the mess. Dozens of storylines—some finished, most not. I decided it was time to clean house.
So I’m finishing what I started. Focusing on the long fiction threads and promising myself that from here on, quality comes first. The foundation’s solid, but there’s still plenty of building to do.

You’ve all been patient, loyal, and willing to walk through my corridors of madness while I rebuild piece by piece. You deserve the best I’ve got—and that’s exactly what’s coming.

I suppose I should be pulling my hair out… wait, I’m bald—so I’m good.