Things are looking bleak, readers. The Carolinas and Virginia are about to be body slammed by Hurricane Florence, our political system still remains lost in the chaos of the Trump Administration as we wait for Robert Muller to come forward with his findings in the long running investigation on collusion, deadlines constantly seem to be ambushing me, and the smoking sections are always too far from reach in the hustle that comes from working here on campus. I’d pour myself a drink, but I’m currently sitting in the graduate assistant’s office, a small room hidden away within the bowels of the Humanities building, and such an activity would be frowned upon here, even when the proper authorities come to realize that I’m the head of the Bourbon Minority.

Yes, these certainly are dark times, and leave it to the Old Con to make them a little darker. There’s no time for optimism. We’re all too busy for that. Well, maybe not all of us. The more I think about it, perhaps I’m the only one in this disastrous state of mind. Perhaps this is just another case of insanity showing its ugly face. I’d talk to Rum Brain Moe about it, he is my therapist after all, but that voodoo practicing villain would just tell me not to do anything to stop it, to embrace the madness. Sometimes, I think I should just take the man’s advice and save myself the trouble.

Ah, another run into nonsense. We should all be used to that, shouldn’t we, readers? Anyone? Well, if someone is out there, if somebody is listening, I’m sure you’ll understand.

Anyway, let’s get back on course here. The semester seems to be flying by right now. If my memory serves me right, that’s usually how the first few weeks go, but once we’ve reached midterms, life should slow down. At least, I hope it does. The 21st century has proven to be just too fast, a reckless driver who sees a residential zone as the fast lane. Which reminds me, I need to keep my eye out for whoever keeps coming to my street, using it as a runaway for high speed shenanigans….

One positive thing that I can find is the fact that I feel some energy coming back to me. My last article was absolute rubbish, as I’m sure many of you might agree, but things seem smoother now, and that’s something I can hold on to. We all need at least one thing in our lives that we can call our own. Without that, what’s the point? A character on the stage has to have something to do, otherwise, they have no direction, a meaningless body without a soul.

Good lord, readers, this has been a screed of epic proportions, a true exploration of mental collapse. Somebody ought to get this keyboard away from me, but as long as they don’t have a key to this office, We are safe. And that is good news.