A Case for Sociopathy

will likely be a title at some point.

Before then, however, I think I'll ramble and attempt to collect my thoughts.

Currently, the house is - as is so often the case - much too loud. This comes on the heels of a rather fitful night of confused dreams and hence makes itself much more obvious in the light of day.

Typically these nights will lend themselves to short stories and kick start my mind for the day but one in particular has left me confused.

The theme was simple in its construction: Love.

More accurately, love in an obsessive and dangerous way. It was Lovecraftian in its construction, first-person and yet narrated to me by something deep in my subconscious. I'm unsure as to the gender of the person I was seeing these events through but the sense of realism was very much there.

It was a small apartment, nice but not over-wrought, and there was a young man pacing near the windows. By the time my sleep-addled mind had caught up, we would have been several paragraphs in, with this man arriving during a rainstorm, soaked to the skin in his work clothes - which seemed to be something professional when contrasted with my own, which were much more informal.

He talked and I talked and we seemed to know each other well. Perhaps the product of long years of friendship. Whatever the reason, the trust seemed to be there.

It wasn't long before I fetched him a drink - simple coffee. There was something added then that I kept out of my own glass. The rest is a bit muddled and I'll have to sort through it from my own notes later but I am rather positive that something unfortunate happened to my dear friend.

The final scene is clear as it was just prior to my waking up. I (maybe 'he'?) was sitting on his bed, turning the thin wedding band his friend had worn around on his own finger. The room is dark but there is the sense of dawn around him - the red, sun-stained clouds hanging just outside the window. There are framed pieces on the wall in front of him where there were none before. They look familiar even though I can't quite place them ... but I remember the friend had several tattoos.

Needless to say, this has kept me confused for quite a while. I think I've managed to get a rough version of the events down now and I should be able to clean them up soon. 2012 becomes a year in which I'm looking more into magazines and the like for my work.

(For the record, I'm not sure why I'm typing like this. It just feels like the thing to do.)

Aside from that, not much has happened. Well, not much that's moved anything forward at least. My writing has hit a point where I just can't seem to care and most of my other projects are stalled on the sidelines for reasons unknown.

But, as always, I shall find a way to correct the situation. It shouldn't be too difficult. Simply a matter of actually taking that step off of the landing once in a while.