Okay, here's the deal:

I was going to start this journal off by expaining the rules. I was going to write of my motivation for this site and the guidelines I set for it, not to mention a few fair warnings to my readers, but instead, I'm going to go off about something that just happened, instead.

My fucking computer just died.
Bit it. Gave up the ghost. Sold its soul to Satan for a buck seventy-five and a quart of gin.

Now, I should be upset about this. I should be, in this little nickle-squeezing existence of mine, quite put out. Instead, I'm overwhelmed with a profound sense of ennui. It was old, after all. I built that little machine from scratch and it's worked its little cpu off for me. It took me through Clarion. It managed to put up with endless hours of solitare when I should have been writing. It also showed me hundreds of naked chicks.

But now it's gone. Kaput.
But then how, you ask, am I writing this? Kudos to Griffith. (An important side note here: I will talk about the people in my life quite often in these pages, and I will do so with unrelenting honesty. I will not, however, use real names. I know that most of you will know exactly of whom I'm writing, but that's the way it is. Everyone gets a nickname. If you don't want to read about yourself, I suggest you go away and don't come back. More about this later when I really do get around to the rules.) Yes, I got the laptop you lent me to work. Perfect timing, too.

So, I get to get used to these itty-bitty little keys and keep on keeping on.

You know, I'm really sad to see that computer go. It was a real buddy.

Until tomorrow,

Joseph Haines, signing off from the Edge of The Abyss