Hey-ho, mighty and turbulent is the life of the heretic. Least, this last week's absence can be counted as a sign of my true heretical nature. Defining heresy personally, I believe that it isn't just undermining established cultural and religious dogma, it is being able to undermine your own personal dogma. And baby, if holding to any doctrine was a full measure of priesthood, we'd have me as Pope Irving the First by now. Dealing with sapping my own security, I ran into a very old psychical wall of my powerful inner defenses, and blew out a gasket in the attempt. As the Buddhists might say, I reached the upper limit of my intellectual energies, and like a badpenny fuse, I snapped over by relying wholly on that single circuit. I'm hoping that some time in the future, I won't need to have these periods be so brutal, but what you can't accomplish with an application of a ball peen hammer, you will surely do with a seven floor drop of a Baby Grand piano. The post-blowout is even harder in some ways, because it is damnably hard to incorporate what comes from the onto-eruption, and even harder to explain to someone else where I am. Hell with it. I don't care what anyone else says, doubt is good for the soul. (well, it would be if I didn't doubt the existence of a soul.)

More to come.