For the third time, I have reread Julius Evola's essay The Sacrality of War, and can't get it out of my head. This reading has been coalescing interiorly with recent frustration over my lagging on those projects closest to my remaining being, fiction, the review of Robert E. Howard's work, the regret of tossing Stan Gooch's Cities of Dreams in the dumpster with 700 other books, the current suicide in progress of people of European descent and listening to Uncle Ted's Cabin on Myth of the 20th Century.

After considering an essay it occurred that this is one of those subjects best treated in fiction.

Of course, I need another book in progress like I need a hole in the head, although the latter would solve all of my current problems. But once I stop manual labor entirely mid-January, I should be able to finish a book a week and attack DreamEater mid-spring.

And so another errant thread of the mind's half-blind eye spins inward and out of sight.

Over the coming months I will chip away at the sparse front matter and notes in hopes that this gnawing avenue of inquiry might be kept at bay until Spring returns with her claws out.

-James LaFond 10/24/17