when a madman dies, the world takes a breath.
people are often in mixed opinions about the mad. some people, those that call him eccentric, love him, cherish him, miss him, and cultivate his legend. the others, those that revile him, bury him, hate him, are fearful of him (even in death), and maintain his infamy.
the passages that follow are those of a self professed madman. these passages are not melodramatic musings about pretentious particulars. no, nothing like that. i'll simply be covering my life and those things that amuse and terrify me. i'm sure i'll have a lot to talk about.
this will be my record, for when the world takes her breath for me.
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