None ya.. You're a scrofulous reprobate. an' everbody knows it. Hell, people in Missourri say that and don;t even know ya, and they're drunk half the time, so i reckon it;s true.( that drunk half the time, well, that;s what i like about 'em)
On a more serious note. There are those of us who have lives we'd rather not explain, for many reasons. Thus we compartmentalize, and fragment our stories.
The need for confession is a real and compelling need, yet most of us have been victimized by those who would willfully mis-understand,those who will distort and lie. All here that i have told is true, and checkable, but only by someone who knows me well. If you don;t. all you get is a mash-up of stories that won;t co- incide.
As an anecdote. There is only one man who really knows what i did for a living. He's retired now,and to think of him makes me happy. He lives in a town around here, got married, got a nice house and a fancy car. He lived in a smoke and mirrors world for a lot of years, got out clean and mostly sane. We don't know each other's names, but sometimes we'll meet in a bar somewhere and tell war stories.Never names, never details, so much is assumed. so much is already known. He lived behind the wire for a while, so did I.We are, so to speak, sympatico.
The point I'm trying to make is, is suppose, trust no-one. Not Completely. Confess when and how you need to, but alter details.Defend whom you you've gotta. J.O.M
" I ain't gonna kill ya, I don't gotta!"
