Trecentos I am surprised by my own potential to yammer. I am aware that I never grow tire of talking (to myself) but the grandiosity of that potential is alarming. I flip back and forth the last hundred entries and I am amazed at myself. I am that atrocious and gibberish talker?! I am that narcissistic fool with legitimate credentials to be locked up in a glass case in the museum flanked by an exhibit plate: behold, the monger of hundred ways to spew nonsense. On the eve of this 300th post, I blush and cringe likewise. Boy! I am accomplished in all the wrong senses and leanings.