Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas

After much adieu about nothing, and much interference from work, life and other play. 

I think I have overcome most of my devils that were chasing me.
The long time reader will note I am not at Techography.
This is not due to a falling out, or anything of the sort.
Calimus and I are still as brothers.
Quite frankly were it not for him, this entire site would not be possible.
I'm not as handy at HTML as I used to be.

No, it's because Techography was never meant to be a place for my ramblings,
my idiosyncratic's, or my political ravings.It was meant to be a site about
the technology that he and I worked on, and still work on to this day,
from our early days in high school.

We blogged before there was a Facebook. Before the days of My Space or You Tube.

When Geo Cities, Rocketmail, Fortune City, and mIRC ruled the Internet.
And mIRC is where we picked the name for this site.
In the early days of mIRC "scripting" was all the rage.
 We spent several months creating our own personalized version of mIRC.
At over 45,000 downloads it was quite popular in its day.
The title of that Script Mod was simply ®Evil, or Registered Evil.

We were called geeks then, odd, rebels, strange, and possible Columbine candidates.

Today we are called Bloggers.

But no matter the names, no matter the dates or changes.
Whether it be for better or worse.

I am again attempting to pick up my pen to scribe my stories,
my travels, viewpoints and past.
For better or worse, for good or evil, I am back.
Hopefully this time to stay.

I could not go gentle in to that good night
The rage that holds me, the life I've lived posses me to express myself in some form, some format.
I will not go quietly. I will not lie down.
In this darkest of time more than ever our voices need to be heard.
I do not see myself some rally point, I'm not. I am but one more voice to many.
One more instrument in the band.

But from a band is borne a symphony, and a symphony performs wonders, and greatness.
I wish to be part of that wonder, once again.

Won't you join me?