paper to write
Real world responsibilities seem more and more like infringements on my ability to construct some cool-dude personality. Hmm, this doesn't seem very wise. At least I'm consciously making bad decisions instead of hiding behind emo emo. But it's a real drag. Yeah. I bought a humidifier for Gabe's house, it's pretty nice. Rent's due, but the Tracys haven't been by, as far as I know. I'm beat. Everyone seems so proud to have established an identity, me included. Neh. I'm looking at all the weird things, I can't help that my eyes are drawn to weirdness, to flaws and eerie things. The more I try to "live in the moment," as I ride without hands and encounter these weird mutant feelings, like everything is different but everyone acts the same, the more I appreciate the conservative regulatory serenity of, like, Japanese utopian modernism-futurism. I think I just need to be boxed in and defined a little more. I'm not exactly sure what I really want, but it seems that I need to refine the way I interact with people. I'm being far too codependent for these slow winter times. I need to stop talking about everything I think about on Livejournal, too. I sound so shut off from people, obsessed with poignancy. Oh, if we could only see each other in clear lights... Each sentence is a rabbit hole, I think that's fair. Does anyone ever explain everything they mean? Sensual consciousness, easy discipline, grace, please return to my thoughts and deeds.