...to carry on with this other than from a sense of perversity. But former readers - of whom there once were a handful - will be more than aware of that tendency in the person who used to be known as Robert Swipe. And that still persists in me; the person who used to be Robert Swipe. That and a healthy streak of doggedness are all that remain of him - poor unwanted old Bob; *so* misunderstood! Yes, that's pretty much all that remains of him now, poor yorricky Bob. The only reason I've come back is because of the name, really. The name lives on even if all that it could conceivably stand for now is nothing but a ghost; a bag of bones in a corridor, wind whsitling down it as cold as a tomb. Rest in peace, poor old Bob; I once knew you well...
It was a good name - if a little crass. I always liked the Swipe bit. It was what was needed. At the time. Maybe it still is needed - I can think of a few faces I'd very much like to swipe, given the opportunity. And a set of claws. But that's for someone else, not me. This is the next phase - the last phase. To swipe requires animation, will, desire, an ego to rail at the world in the hope that the world might flinch or cower back then finally buckle to that righteous, burning, incandescent rage; yes, perhaps the world might change. That was what I thought when I was Robert Swipe. But there is no animation now - no will, desire or ego. Just the calm of the failed, the acceptance of the doomed.
No, this last part will be some sort of reckoning, I think. A calling to account, a taking stock. You see, much as I would like to, I cannot forgive. I might be able to accept, but I *cannot* forgive...
L.U.V. on y'all,
Once was Bob