tonight's one of those nights when i feel like curling up. not even with a good book; just curling up. i can't even spend a quiet evening by myself with music playing softly for all the cars whizzing past my window.

sometimes i could swear that i'll never find anything i enjoy in life. enjoy enough to spend extended periods of time in pursuit of. i'll use sentence fragments and end sentences with prepositions if i want to; i find them rather symbolic in relation to their subject matter, thank you.

the only thing i can do consistently is complain, and we have enough environmental lobbyists already. sometimes i honestly do wonder whether there are any spots left where i could reenact walden, only this time not so close to a town. the book may be boring as crap, and i'm not exactly keen on the whole "living deliberately" thing, but it sure would give me an excuse to not pay taxes.

it's nights like these that i have the inexplicable desire to break out christian cds that i haven't listened to in ages, to pop in some darrell evans between nonconsecutive seesions of ani difranco's "fuck you" and simon and garfunkel's "a most peculiar man". i'm never quite sure what it is; maybe somewhere down there i haven't completely abandoned the notion of God actually wanting to ease my pain. i think can pretty much promise that there's something in all of us that wants to believe in something bigger than all of us, that tells us that if this is all there is, there isn't much. we're all bound at some point to decide whether we have to fend for ourselves or if we're going to throw our problems into the air and hope Someone catches them before they come crashing down again, and sometimes this decision isn't made at once.

so few people understand what it takes to get through to someone any less shallow or more stubborn than the average lemming...or maybe so few care. and if it's a chemical imbalance, so be it; try to give me valium, and soon you'll notice your housepet acting strangely. i'll take life the way it is, whether bad or worse.

there's a small part of me still alive that can see the future as bright, desirable; i suppose that as long as it lives, so do i. it's not something i talk about much these days, when trying to be honest about your negative qualities produces argument rather than advice; i try to combat this world of false positivity as much as possible. there is something, however, that i perceive as important in having a visceral sense of the possibility of good, however miniscule and embattled it might be.

i honestly don't know where this is going; since i stopped for probably a half hour, i lost my train of thought (it was slowing down anyway). i guess the point is that the prose in me hasn't died yet.

ed. note: some time after writing this, i actually put in my darrell evans cd and soon remembered why i stopped listening to him in the first place.

a brief and terribly undescriptive return - 10.28.04
- - 09.17.04
- - 08.16.04
- - 08.13.04
- - 07.30.04