Why do we lay on our backs, staring at passing clouds? Why have we, for as long as we've existed, been envious of birds for their endowment of flight? Why do obsess about expanding our borders beyond the clouds, the sky, and the moon? Why do concern ourselves with daydreams that drift to some city in the clouds? Why do fantasize about a realm we were never built to explore?

Maybe we are greedy creatures, looking only to expand our dominion for selfish and malicious intentions.

Or perhaps not.

Maybe we are tired and frustrated creatures, simply longing for a place that has been lost to us. Maybe we just want to go home, and can't find the way. Having lost our original government and guiding light, we miss a place we have not known in millenia. Expelled, broken, robbed of our grace and our master, our wings removed, and our souls abandoned, we were left to wander blindly on our own.


Detached and forlorn, we orphaned angels.

A simple nonappearance. She just vanished. She left work a little bit late, typical of a Thursday at the reception office, but she never showed up at the normal stops after. She did not stop by the bank to cash her check, she did not get gas as is her weekly schedule. She got in the car, and to our knowledge, ceased to be. We called her several times. We called the police, gave a description, sent in pictures. No notice, no warning just gone.

And apparently, we are not alone. Unannounced disappearances are on the rise with unheard of frequency. People just disappeared. Bermuda-triangulated. Gone.

The pale sun gives in to darkness without contest, as I rise to greet this obedient darkness. A crescent moon makes its slow dance overhead.

We are disembarking on a quest of unquestionable excitement. We're fucking Louis and Clark, juxtaposed with the Blues Brothers, and again with Little Boy and Fat Man. Flying at ludicrous speeds directly into the storm.

Someone's gotta touch the paint. Someone has to do the trespassing. Because someone has to fucking walk on the grass, man.

So this is it. Cheers. Nice knowin' you. See you on the other side, one way or the other.

C is for cookie. That's good enough for me.


I have to be the most conveniently lucky guy on this earth. you fucking watch.

Two and half a year. I finally won, and as always, find the victory an empty one. The ways my heart works fucking frustrate me. Typical, though. Only wanting what one cannot have, losing complete interest before things even finish materializing. No wonder I am lonely! Grah.

Anyway, my fabled tenacity has come through, and a friend is made.

On an entirely different note: gears are turning driving me inexorably onward. My endeavours for the cause of controversial greater goods are coming to a head. There are decisions to be made, and fates to be decided.

This day was important and it took me a while to figure out why.

Three years its been, and the wheel of time makes a full revolution.



it's so funny how these things happen.

Whatever, man. It's your world, I'm just living in it.

A more recent address. A change in scene and speed. My direction is unchanged, though. Still following my feet.

Much is happening. I'm trying, I am, you'd be proud.

Laura is on the streets, up to god knows what. We haven't talked in months. I saw her with more money than she could count, making shady deals with shadier people.
She breaks my heart, even still.

But she's getting further and further from my mind.
Jay is leaving, taking with him the mess he brought.
Rob is leaving, with a strange void to linger in all the lives he touched.


I left a week ago. It's so strange, I find myself largely alone. I live with a professor of computer science, and I never see him. Sharing separate schedules, our relationship is almost non-existent. He works and sleeps early; my mirrored opposite.

Things are quiet, and I am lost in my own reflection. Dynamos of thought twist, turn, and oscillate. My heart is heavy, and my head, and too my crown. Many obstacles line the road ahead, and I do not foresee any lack of difficulty.

My winter is over. The winter of my discontent is ended. And the spring that blooms is that much sweeter. In a house I am not afraid of returning to. A house equipped with all the amenities I was denied. It is refreshing.

My days are fleeting, but my nights are endless.
How are you? I haven't seen or talked to you in an age. Tell me of your journeys. I insist.

Dearest journal, it's been too long! How do I start?

I've been away so long, and so much has transpired.

I endure. through heartbreak and frustration and loneliness. through confusion, fear, and paranoia. through fires, plagues, and the torture of repetition.

I've advanced. I've grown up in ways remarkable. Matured by degrees.

I live just across the river with Jay. I got a job at Rockaways were I run food, and soon hope to start serving. Laura and myself had a messy and blurred separation that is still being finalized. I'll spare you kind folk the details.

The house is taking shape. My sleep schedule is skewed beyond measure. I shifted to a nocturnal schedule and found myself enjoying it very much, and it worked for me grandly until my old acquaintance, insomnia, moved in with me to share my empty bed.

But! My creative mind has gotten to cranking again, and this excites me immeasurably.


i'm more in touch with myself and those around me than i have been in a long time. not all connections are positive, but it beats detachment.

i fear i've blown to smithereens all the bridges i once held with old friends. this is most unfortunate, but not cripplingly so. Few things brighten my day like reconnecting with old, old friends. unfortunate, but understandable.





Against the god of change, none can stand long. We live in a universe of perpetual change, and to whom all must bow. There is no alternative, see? we choose only the direction and speed of change.

Did a little detective work. Every gal that has been able to captivate and interest me for prolonged periods of time, has been born in the same week. Really. There have been 5, and all have been Libra. Remarkably unsettling.

Moving in to a new house. Excitement is tangible. Two artisans sharing a roof, each of opposites sides of the globe. Two poet-warriors in the classic sense. It shall be a powerhouse of creativity. Already it is shaping into something truly worthy of even my over-rationed pride. You should visit sometime.

No one reads anymore, but this is hardly surprising. Everyone is either being educated or losing interest from the live journal. shame.

Change of season. Change of address. Change of speed. Change of style. Change of scene.
With no regrets.

So. I ran to Massachusetts to work in the carnival. Recently came back to work it in Columbia; its final stop for the season. Come the end of the month, I will be looking for a job. Went through a rough spot but tedious planning and a little luck has payed off. I am out of my parents house and one step closer to independence. The future swirls and whirls, and for the first time in my life, is unforeseeable to any degree.

Cannot check the internet on a regular basis. Phone is back though.

I encourage you disregard the rumors about me. The further you go, the closer you are.

My love to all ye deserving. My apologies for an unexplained absence.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, there is no breastfeeding allowed in the restaurant."


Can't make this shit up.

Blacked out today at work. Everything got dark, and I grew proportionally pale. All sense left me for a moment as I staggered toward a chair, and found arms I did not recognize guiding me.

A phone call was made to the authorities and parents. Picked up in an ambulance who's flashing lights reminded me of Christmas. Taken to ER, hooked to IV. Had my blood stolen by competent nurses. Tried to sleep. Everytime I had just fallen asleep I was awakened by a nurse wanting x-rays, nurse wanting blood test, nurse wanting CATT scan, nurse wanting to push her food off on me, and nurse wanting answers to questions based around my thought disorder. Got no sleep. Got nothing done. Got poked and bled. Got a new fear off hospitals.


that was my day.

I am still a sucker for:

Beautiful smiles.
The color yellow.
Daunting views.
Naturalistic sanctuaries.
Nostalgic key stones that have since lost all import.
Beauty. True beauty in things, places, people, and deeds.
Poetic minds.

Demons lurk in one's darkest recess. Madness dwells in all, waiting for a proper time to spring. This darkness is heavily irritated in times of stress, and when the structures erected by the mind are too few or too far to bear against this stress, the mind folds.


No one is invulnerable to collapse, but the collapse is not uncontrollable. Depending on resolve and other factors, a collapse can be undone and integrity regained. No one is invulnerable, but some stand better prepared. In times of duress, I crumble. I'm working at it, and slowly improving, I like to imagine. The further I adventure the avoided realm, the more strength of spirit it requires. Rest assured, onlookers, progress is being made.

It gets brighter the deeper you go. A stark contrast to the state of my spirit.

Your motives are clearer than light to me. You fool only yourselves.

I had an epiphany. A blessing that allowed me to see beyond the fog. A deeper look into the human mind, deeper than the owner themselves, in many cases. This is what has dawned on me: the rarity of beautiful minds. So many put up an appearance they think would be of interest. They play mind games, and convince themselves and others that they are more pretentious than their comrades. Know a band more obscure. Know a book less known. It is a masturbational act that I want no part of. The vanity of my fellow human beings is so loathsome! With each breath they can muster, they plot what article of clothing would give them more credibility and respect from their peer group, what they could say that would arouse empty, hollow laughs, and how they can turn any situation around and make themselves the star. None of them know anything further than self-betterment. They lack depth utterly, and merely fake an understanding of matters bigger than themselves.
I find several people I was once close to fall utterly into the category, and can not find it in me to stomach them any longer.

We have the adult shut ins, and the kids being raised to fill such positions. The business men and women who soldier around for the nine to five and then go home to their family of 2.4 and die. Rising the next morning to do it all again. They built their own hell around them, something they were convinced they wanted, and now they waste away in a castle with no easy exit. The despair is visible on their faces, the sadness cannot be hidden easily.

You have people known as basics, who excel at nothing, but neither do they strive for anything. They know their place, and this is why their place is lowly. They lack the gumption, ambition, and intellect to go anywhere or do anything but rot on their rock. There exists nothing but stagnation to these.

You have people who have intelligence, and intellect. Beautiful people who were trapped early on, and stranded away from people whom they might grow with. People who hung around with the wrong people, because they had nothing else. These people in hiding are a cause for hope. They are easily spotted, by a feeling I cannot yet find words to express, and their growth, though stagnant, is not totally stunted. These people can be saved, up to a point, if they so choose to be.

There exists creatures who are broken by various aspects of society. Whose minds are not meant for the cage modern life places them in. Their mind seeks release, lest it die, and the way the process in which the mind does this, to society seems dangerous and unstable, and this breaks down the mind further. Most people seem to fear this concocted stereotype, and most people are idiots.

You have me. Perhaps people like me, who do what they can to hide amongst the fools, while not associating with them. Simply lying low, with hopes to find others like himself. They might be hiding, or they might standout glaringly. I have a family, though it is small and spread, I'll look outward for others to help, for always.

Further note, that if you're reading this from my friends list, none of these are attacking you in particular. If you are friend, I count you as one. To me you reside above the rigmarole. Though we may rarely talk anymore, or an ocean widens the span between us. Though we've never met, I count you much above the horrors of my surroundings. Obviously there are outliers and special cases. Most of the biggest enemies though, have been listed out of annoyance above. I'm still plotting out what to do, and how to survive while maintaining my honor and dignity.

Pardon the unorthodox diatribe, but it needed recording.

I grow sick of pretenders. The more I explore, the more I find. It is a lie, and the more I find, the more I detest lies. I am unable to reach people I love, and am thus trapped to endure this purgatory. I am at war with the other party, cut off from allies, I'm stuck hiding lest open confrontation erupts. I will not stomach it. I will not suffer it.

I have advanced, and slowly continue to grow, while people who were once my equals remain stagnant. They are content with their quagmire of falsehoods, their vanity, shallowness, and lack of direction. I pity them, but I will not put up with them. For us, stagnation is not an option. Growth and expansion are all that exist. The decision is simply, which direction will best facilitate our growth.

I still know myself no more than a sapling, but I've outgrown the garden in which I was raised. I thus seek a new peer group that I might see as equals or better. People who might share experience, knowledge, and discovery. If not, I will then truly be trapped. Without such infrastructure, I will suffocate, collapse, whither, and rot.

No one said this would be easy. I don't pretend it will be.