"Can't do it, not even if sober"

There isn't enough Maker's Mark on the planet to drown out my night vision, or the swagger I've carried since I convinced myself. My dread at missing deadlines, or alarm clocks losing time in the confusion of my somnambulent ranting, dissolved when the curtain is pulled. You should see the mechanics at work underneath. You should see the beer-can shims and propped plywood and electrical tape holding this place together.

Roman mythology, and later Dark Age mysticism, granted the goddess Fortuna influence over the cycles of positive and negative in life. She spun the wheel of fortune, and yet was constrained by the immutable rules. The wheel must make its rounds, and things must get better, or when better things must get worse. I'm no determinist, fate can be estimated perhaps, but it is not chiseled in stone. I can't deny that these things do go in cycles. Our;control is limited to vanishingly few elements of our life, but it is by those that we steer everything.