No, TriLaDre,

no I won't cry. I know you're there with me now, and because you are there, I know it doesn't matter how I've been shafted. I know you will (or can) take me in your lap, and gently rock me into a lovely sleep. I know you will do these, TriLaDre, whether you are here or not, so I'm not worried about that, I will not feel sorry for myself.

I'm just concerned about this plan of action of yours. I know you read this, and still refuse to post or email directly, but perhaps you could send in another of those clue-tsunamis of yours? Beginning to love dots these days, the way people put them on themselves, and the things that drop out of them, so would love to connect your dots.

I know you aren't into this God nonsense, and hate it when I raise you to an aural level, but just give me a Sign, okay? I need hope, and I need confidence. And, given tonight, I need you TriLaDre, more than ever now.

Or can I ask you something: was it you who set me up? Actually, don't bother, I already know what you will say: I asked for it. You know, you is teh sux, but still, I need you TriLaDre, I need you while I work on things. I need your input now.

(Ed Note: This could probably be one of the last in our TriLaDre series until I deploy that new blogging engine I was speaking about. You will be able to sign abstract stuff out and focus on the masala instead.)