the cover of The Last Romantic Verb

Might as well admit, I failed.

I failed to take a vacation from the CD project. Sorry, I had to. There is no way I can acomplish what I have set for myself in the years left to me, after all those wasted years, without being pretty much obsessive.

Besides, once I get sidetracked again by a worthy goddess as my lover, I will need to have accomplished so much before I allow that. When I love, I compromise and sacrifice, and I both want to have many things completed and have something to impress her with...

Wouldn't it be nice is she was someone brilliant and creative, so we could collaborate on projects like books and CDs and tours? That would be heaven.

Two marriages, three children, eight (going to ten by tear's end) books, thousands of writings, a CD, a legacy. According to the Social Security Administration I have made a hefty amount of money in this life. Most men would be happy with half my accomplishments. I'm not most men.

Oh, by the way, barring blurbology, the picture above? That's the CD cover...I just finished it.

I forced myself to listen to it again today, first note to final strains. It's good. Annoyingly good. David Bowie was right, we have the tools to make the artist who conceives an idea able to bring it to fruition. I am blessed to have been borne into this age of dreams to flesh.

But now the bar raises. Now the race begins again, and as always, as it should be, I am not competing with anyone but myself. I am my own greatest opponent. I race, not men, but the clock and my own standing before it. I am, to steal a pop phrase from a few decades back, self-actualized.