The Start of an Empire: The World is a Slow-Changing Screensaver
Hello again.
Tonight, I don't myspace. I don't write a facebook note. Tonight I livejournal... Which is entirely different from journaling.
The man, the myth, the legend. The friend, the enemy, the muse. The inspiration for this lie, the inspiration for this journal is with me tonight. Platonic, I promise.
Joseph Clifford Fandel. Oyy. There is not enough I can say about this man, and the re-evaluations he has evoked. This man made me feel a need to realize where I am. This man made me realize the importance of geography and chronology. However, he visits from the great, corn-filled Midwest. For this, I am thankful.
I feel that my filling friendships here have started to deviate. The originals ring true and do not ring me to complain for their abuse. However, the friendship has become abusive and I am the victim. The black-eyed wife that still begs for your dinner request, am I. As I have learned for this an many other recorded experiences, abuse it the testing tablet of every great friendship. If you reconstruct a chain, it becomes stronger...but for a while it is useless.
Here I stand...Bearded as best I can be. This is the end. This is the end of ends as I know them. Hopefully, the end of ends as we know them.
If we all hide here, they will find us. "They" as in the faceless, yet existing, predators in the life of every human. "They" as in no group specifically. "They" as in the group the may, very well, be after us all... Or perhaps "They" as in the predators that are after most of us.
"They" as in "they" once, and now the "Heroes". The ones that pushed you off the rock and embraced the ocean's cold and infinite view. "They" as in the one that would someday give you solace. "They" as in the ones that MADE you create. "They" as in the ones that made you fight back.
Tonight, I don't myspace. I don't write a facebook note. Tonight I livejournal... Which is entirely different from journaling.
The man, the myth, the legend. The friend, the enemy, the muse. The inspiration for this lie, the inspiration for this journal is with me tonight. Platonic, I promise.
Joseph Clifford Fandel. Oyy. There is not enough I can say about this man, and the re-evaluations he has evoked. This man made me feel a need to realize where I am. This man made me realize the importance of geography and chronology. However, he visits from the great, corn-filled Midwest. For this, I am thankful.
I feel that my filling friendships here have started to deviate. The originals ring true and do not ring me to complain for their abuse. However, the friendship has become abusive and I am the victim. The black-eyed wife that still begs for your dinner request, am I. As I have learned for this an many other recorded experiences, abuse it the testing tablet of every great friendship. If you reconstruct a chain, it becomes stronger...but for a while it is useless.
Here I stand...Bearded as best I can be. This is the end. This is the end of ends as I know them. Hopefully, the end of ends as we know them.
If we all hide here, they will find us. "They" as in the faceless, yet existing, predators in the life of every human. "They" as in no group specifically. "They" as in the group the may, very well, be after us all... Or perhaps "They" as in the predators that are after most of us.
"They" as in "they" once, and now the "Heroes". The ones that pushed you off the rock and embraced the ocean's cold and infinite view. "They" as in the one that would someday give you solace. "They" as in the ones that MADE you create. "They" as in the ones that made you fight back.