The Center Holds

. . .

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. The ceremony of innocence is drowned

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Wouldn't surprise me if we are indeed at war by this point but the center looks fine to me. I know that isn't what that Yeats fellow meant but there it is.

This is what we revolve around. It's the glue that keeps us together and it is as malignant and deadly as we are. Fitting, I guess.

Aside from a few "why the hell did I touch that button" moments, it has been uneventful. Route plotter is acting up, though. If memory serves, we were one and a half cases of bootleg liquor into the job when we wired the thing up. Going to have to keep a close eye on it.

Going to continue plugging on towards Beagle Point.

Perhaps if there is war it'll be over by the time I get there and back again. My soldiering days are long behind me.