You see, you hear these funny voices

Here lies the genesis of my mother blogging experience. WARNING: ignore these ignominies ignited irreverently inside this iridescence in front of you this very moment!

Speaking of experience, may I define it for you? Some sissies who go by the name of Merriam and Webster (what were their parents thinking?) say experience is knowledge gained by actually doing or living through something. Leonard Cohen says: "There's a night of judgment coming, but I may be wrong". Stacy has always felt, and particularly of late, that Cohen is not wrong, and indeed is describing an ongoing present. From my close proximities to her, she feels scrutinized by those least qualified to do so. Feeling qualified...or at least justified because my channel is in the bedroom of this enchanting woman: may I try to disseminate illumination upon this beautifully flawed woman. Yes, flawed--but not more than the author or the reader at this very moment (and if you think otherwise, please heed the warning at the beginning of this mother blog and may I direct you to the pile of stones just outside your glass house? There's an adulterous woman waiting for your heave-ho). She is my embryonic goddess who for all the baggage she must ferry while perambulating through and among the nefarious (the chief of which she lives with) she does so with decisively decided pluck and granite.

It is no secret that she suffers from depression. But until you "experience" depression, this word can seem benign; easily glossed over. But what is depression? There are as many definitions as there are sources, but one of my favorite is the literal one: "the angular distance of a celestial object below the horizon." My own definition born of "experience"? The devastating decimation of hope. If faith is unyielding without hope...and faith gives holistic elucidation to why we are here (in the broadest, most philosophical sense)--than I don't see a worse disease to have. Cancer, stroke, heart disease, anthrax, or camptodactyly fibrous tissue hyperplasia skeletal dysplasia may only destroy the body, but depression can destroy the soul.

Well, I suppose I should get to work, since that is what I am being paid for: but in case you are still reading this, know that Stacy is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Her compassion and determination to put one foot in front of the other, even when her disease is telling her to saw it off, because watching the blood pool around you and lettin the lights fade like some tragic Shakespearean theme is the (explicative) answer: she doesn't. And that is more profound than anyone can rhetorically render in any forum.

Since this is my blog and I will do with it as I please--I will call it...mmmh..."a [shoddy at best] narration intended to enforce a useful truth especially when animals speak (me) and act like human beings". The useful truth here is one that you have heard echoing through the waves of time that should swallow you whole so that every action of yours is defined by it: "Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?"