It was about uncertainty.

It was about the fleeting feelings of living in a world with so little to believe in,
Yet so much for which to be thankful.

It was about knowing, beyond a doubt, that when I squeeze my eyes shut at night and say a final prayer for the day, that when I wake up I will still know, yes still know that, though my boxer shorts have crept up just a tiny bit in the night...I still don't have a complete wedgie.

It was about knowing that, come what may, I will never, as god is my witness, buy liver and onions at a Denny's again.

It was about knowing that the cat that sometimes licks his own hinder parts, will sometime, maybe later that very day, lick my hand with that tongue.

It was about knowing that all the greatest literature in the world is nothing more than letters and punctuation arranged into patterns. and that, if one can find a good pattern, one can join the world of writers of fine literature.

It was about knowing that "I" comes before "E" except after "C" or when sounding like "A" as in "neighbor" or "weigh". Wierd, huh?

All these things I know. But I don't want to be dogmatic or anything.