Suffice it to say I'm feeling a little o'erwhelmed as of late. Indeed, sir. I am.

Life has gone on and continued to be full, full, and deliciously full. My cup overfloweth, and I am doing my damnedest to stay grateful for the all of it all, and not to whine like a little bitch about how many gifts are bestowed upon me on a daily basis.

I am, however, a bit 'o the little bitch, and I do whine, occasionally. I apologize.

Much of this current 'bout of anxious too-muchness has to do with the fact that I have a cold. Again. It is hot as fucksocks in Los Angeles, and it seems strange plain wrong that a person could have a sniffling, wintery cold in such intense heat.

There's that, and then there is the issue of the scourge which has befallen my face.

Whilst driving in my car the other day, some 'thing' attacked my face. I didn't really think much of it at the time. It didn't really register as a sting or a pain, just a sudden realization of a bump on my face. My face.

I scratched at it absent-mindedly on the way home, and by the time I reached my bathroom mirror to investigate, I had a huge, spreading bruise on my check. Flesh eating nano-spiders was one of the first things that came to mind, shortly after the Book of Job.

Now that bruise has become a strange scab-like somethingorother. I have no idea what is going on... on my face.

I blame Bruce Sterling.

If only I had installed an RFID tag in this MARK OF THE DEVIL then it could be available for bidding on Ebay right now.

I am, firmly, in the ism-schism.

God help us all.