Anchored in Jutland Creek behind Tick Neck off Smith Creek on the Potomac River mouth of Chesapeake Bay.
 
38 07 N
076 24 W
 
This is a nasty piece of work that shouldn’t be a part of the logs, but it is part of the adventure.  A part I rather not share.  But to be true to the log it’s included.  I have learned from my poor behavior and life on Skinwalker is once again happy, fun and exciting for both of us.
 
Yesterday was a good day, a good day until we reached our anchorage and I turned into an angry raving maniac unleashing my furious stupidity on my sweet Capt’n Lynnie.  There is no reason, none that I can think of now, that justifies such behavior.  It was simply me, being an asshole at the top of my game.  I yelled, raged really, and even while doing so I knew it was wrong, wrong, wrong, yet, there was no stopping. 
 
It devastated Lynn, I know that. 
 
The barrage was so intense, so ugly, and so terrible that I scarcely recognized my own voice and didn’t want it to be me.  It was like a nightmare of Jason-like emotions spewing venomously black anger even now I don’t want to believe it was me.  Why, how could I be so mean, so insensitive, such a beast of darkness?  
 
Immediately after, I went and hid, too embarrassed, too angry with myself to allow anyone to see, wishing I could have hidden my anger rather then let it loose to hurt and maim others.  Later, we made it through the evening together both making pathetic little jokes regarding the incident, attempting to bury, to forget that it ever happened.
 
We can try to forget.  We can offer up good times, wonderful times, sweet times, quiet times, exciting times that make life beautiful and worthy of experiencing, but anger leaves scars and mars the template of life, the core of our existence, our very soul is damaged and that distorts all good experiences like a bad mirror.
 
Anger has no place on a cruising boat, no place in a marriage, no place in the world.  I was bad.  It was bad.  It cannot be put back in the bottle; it can not be hidden now.  So we must deal with it and I must work hard, harder then anything to keep such ill begotten behavior away from my Capt’n Lynnie.  While I am sorry and would take it all back or do whatever necessary to make it right, there will be no begging for forgiveness; there can be no forgiveness, forgiving only acknowledges hurtful behavior and this cannot be tolerated nor acknowledged, as doing so seems in some perverted sense to condone the misery and pain it brings forth.
 
I write to cleanse my soul, to free my brain.  This morning it is needed greatly and I realize that to do so is akin to living in a glass house.  I don’t think writing however will erase this stain completely.
 
Be you careful out there of casting the first stone and living in your own glass house.
Resolutely from the pilothouse, we stand silently, but strongly together.
 
Capt'n Lynnie and Skinwalker