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Looking For The Answer….

If The Definition Of Insanity is: “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result”, then what exactly am I doing? I endeavor to make a variety of educated and sound approaches; trying to find balance, harmony and happiness. Still I end up with the same results. Its like the circular ruins of fiction for living and/or biographically inclined…. The spindrift is old and I am beyond tired of venting and trying. Something has got to give…. If its Me, then so be it. Its been a remarkable run, all in all…. 40 years of managing the good fight? No regrets and nothing to be ashamed of. 

The Doctor Cant Sleep…. So I’ll Go Get Some Smut For Later, Like Always.   

To Be A New Machine….

Greetings from the fringes and void of humanity. I wish I had some other insight to add, but sadly I dont. My job and all the good folks whom I work for have managed to do something no other person, persons or force on Earth could ever do…. Asphyxiate Hope. Now, I just run on sheer autonomic responses. The last time I had a genuine moment of joy or happiness involved a picture from a long gone and syndicated cartoon. Each morning when I answer the resonating digital daily harpies, I pray for an end…. be it by errant Pilot or by greedy, outsourcing employer. When did I become a cog in the machine? When I did I become the very tool My creativity saw as oppressive?  

The Doctor Is In A Paradox. As always, Smut to follow….

PS. All of the models in My next smutty post will have something in common with Me. Can you figure out what it is? Drop Me a line if you think you’ve got the correct answer. Perhaps you’ll even win a Prize….

One More Hit To The Soul….

Im Tired. So Very Very Tired.

Ive asked for help, but most believe or possibly discounted My request as some sort of drama power play. That “help” is only a one sided proposition for someone like Me.
Yes, I only help people…. I dont need it Myself. I am above such trivial matters. The only common aspects that affect or effect me and the other mere mortals are gravity. Everything else in My head….

Exactly…. I hurt. I bleed. I feel. I am not what or who you believe Me to be at all times. The Armor is flawed. The Facade has cracks or to keep up with this Heroic Baulderdash…. Only Zeus is Perfect.  I am not Zeus.

The Doctor is tired of screaming in black at the Universe. Who will void My Echo?

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