At one a.m. in the o’ morning, the events of the previous day ask me if my vocabulary is too small to wake up the reader in me and slap me good in the face with fresh extemporaneous expository material.

I gave my wife her dream — attending a regional dance competition with the added bonus of competing happily in an event called Strictly Swing — so she settles in for a good night’s snooze while I sober up from an adrenaline rush after a good dance with my inebriated instructor in the post-awards dance party.

How many people were the last ones picked for the middle school gym class volleyball, kickball or dodgeball team?

How many of the others would read this blog?

Would cosplay Loki take cosplay Bruce Banner to a mecha-con formal dinner? Would cosplay Captain America have a girl crush on cosplay Loki played by a girl who’s part of the alternative lifestyle crowd at school but dropped out because she suffered weeks of a viral infection, receiving failing grades, falling behind a year, and will get a GED to go on with her life?

Is her Tesseract artifact recreation the best one ever/yet? Does it have anything to do with the Bene Gesserit?

Was it a mecha-con or a mech I heard Gloria’s daughter Carol’s daughter talk about?

Why did Brian Vickers win a Sprint Cup race?

Why would someone pay so much for a Mercedes race car?

The memories of New Orleans and me in a U.S. Navy ROTC uniform during Mardi Gras are turning this body into Memory Lane Mush. If I never shared the details of that pre-CCTV/social media space, no one would know what really happened.

No one needs to know.

I’m not running for political office or holding myself up as a perfect example of purity to the Harper Valley PTA.

The mental images of the happy dancers and their fluid moves on the dance floor will stick with me forevermore.

I’m just this guy trying to build a sentient backyard fence for privacy so he and his wife can walk naked through the sunroom when they want without disturbing the neighbours.

There are many moments, even a few Monets, at the bottom of a Mason jar emptied of moonshine when one’s decisions earlier in life (“I take thee to be my lawful wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”) create hard and fast barriers to free love rather than love given freely.

I am, however, a wild man from Borneo in addition to Eagle Scout and periodic imbiber — no in-between.

There is or are there not limits to the bottom of the depths of where I’ll go to get a good story and plot twist?

When I give my wife everything she wants, do I get everything I want in return?