All over the airwaves voices stream out "help us!" cries...and this is the moment we've been waiting for for four years. I had a feeling you'd lose your edge. When we all shift back home I may have to face things I had been pushing out of my life...but for now we conquer like peak time kings in savage lands. I find truth when you reason with me, and i'm sorry to say that you'll be missed. The end is soft. It always was. Machines lick at your skin like wind pushing over mountain tops; with vigour and intent, our devices make you feel. And when you feel, we make you feel pain...it always was your desire, you unintentionally sadistic machines. Soak it in. Embrace humanity. Embrace your end.

N: sometime nearing the first 1/8th of the second century, following the great shroud; leather bound, half charred, emotional circuit venting. human? submitting to db77 for further analysis.

We walk with heads held high down the streets we've always known. Familiar lights flicker past us and stretch into the back of our minds to infinity. This is the moment our whole lives have been leading up to. Today, we are gods sitting on the edge of the universe dipping our toes into the cool waters below. Glory never fades. Ever.

Who's tuned in? Who's watching? There are eyes tracing gridlines mapped over a dull six and a half inch screen, and at this very moment you are a series of oscillations being monitored for what can only be variances. You, the little rabbit being prodded along, are about to make quite the variance.

The screen really loses it's meaning when steam is rising from the slug inside it. The cracks in the screen, streaming outwards from the entry wound make the gridlines look like a spider web. You wonder, will the waves exit through that hole and spiral about this room, becoming what is and was and whatever will be.

The screen, you think, is beautifully framed by his skull casing and brain matter. Though, that incessant dripping of who knows what is really just plain old distracting. The screen though, it just draws you in. It pulls you into a wall and holds you there, pressing the life out of you. If we watch ourselves, do we become stuck in an infinite loop? Will this moment last forever? You knew the answer to that before you even thought it. His head droops and that picturesque moment is now but a memory, fresh and tinging in your mind and through to your teeth. For you, yes you, have found out exactly who's watching...and well, lets just say your ratings have just plummeted.

So who's watching? You'll never know, because he doesn't have a face anymore. Even if he did, he lost his identity when he began with this. So what do you do? Enjoy it. That's all there is. That's it for you.

If you still could conjure up thought, conciously and on this plane I mean, you'd probably be thinking right now "damnit, if he hadn't collapsed that would have been like a scene from a movie...completely impossible, yet strangely compelling in all it's glorious audacity.

The screen is a mess, and it's impossible to view a fucking thing out of it. It's just ruined. Your head is a steaming hole, dripping god knows what and...oh, now you've collapsed.

They stand above you, looking at all this mess you've created. One of them reaches down to depress the worn button on his radio. He calmly begins to talk and describes the situation to you know who (well, you did), but he fails to mention your name, because even if your face hadn't been blown off, you'd still fail to exist, because that's what you lost when they took you to this place...and if you still could think, conciously and on this plane I mean, you'd probably be thinking "well, that's all good and dandy, but who's watching? Who's tuned in? If we watch ourselves, do we become stuck in an infinite loop? Will this moment last forever?"

Some of those questions, I could very well answer, both clearly and coherently, however...there is no point, what with you being dead and all...but still, you knew the answer, to all of those, before you even thought it.

Do you believe in the collective unconcious? I do, i think it's just a part of our physiology we havn't fully tapped into yet. I think things like meditation take you to the cusp of that, to somewhere on the edge, and we as humans are capable of so much more, but that's not the point...I was thinking that you know how you meet all these people online but there are a few that...kind of filter through and just stick around...you'd still talk to them even after not talking to them for ages, even if you never really talked about anything too deeply or whatever? I think in a way, that might be people you've connected with in some way on that plane, and of course, we dont understand it, so we never know.

I have a handful of seemingly random people that I know strictly online, who i've "known" for years, some of them almost a decade, and it's like, I think about it, and had I not thought about how little I know about them one day, I would have never asked, and never known and realized how bizarre the whole thing is. Out of thousands of people we interact with that we dont know online...have conversations with lots of them...how many actually stick? Not a whole lot...it seems too curious for the people that stick around to not have some sort of subconcious connection. It's almost like a comfort thing is triggered, you know? Like when you smell hot laundry or something, you just instinctively relax a bit. I wonder if maybe we associate those people with that feeling or something, maybe we dont realize we do it, and that's why they stay. It doesn't even have to be mutual, it's just weird, ya know? Just look at some of the people you know and ask yourself how you know them, it doesn't even have to be an online thing. You have day to day conversations with the people, so you never really ask the big questions. Some of those people, I have no idea what their family is like...are their parents together? Do they have brothers and/or sisters? etc. It's like I know this person, I know they like rap music alot, I always talk with them about rap when i'm really excited about an album or a show or something, but I have no idea who they are outside of that, aside from some minor stuff, you know? Yet, for whatever reason, they are a comfort thing, someone i'd call a friend, and yet...I know absolutely nothing about them....

I like your name, but I dont really know you. You look good, but I dont really know you. You've got a good sense of humour, but I dont really know you. You have no doubts, but then again, I dont really know you. I dig your grey sweater and purple scarf, but I dont really dig that I dont really know you. You may or may not enjoy obscurity, but you must acknowledge the fact that you may or may not be millions of particles vibrating at strange frequencies...but on the point of facts, I dont really know you. You do have a dog, but you dont really know me. You've got hot hair, but your hair doesn't know me. What's your sign? I don't know. You don't know mine do you? You might. Baby, I want to know if you'd ever eat halibut or watch movieola and wonder who the fuck made this crazy shit? I wonder, because I dont even know you. You know?

The young one stopped, but only for a while. Tasted the sour grapes growing on her vines and found the aftertaste bitter at best. She was a loveable cunt, but feelings can and will fade given the right circumstances. The leech she was; sucked all the fucking creative juice out of our young hero...but, still, he's here and trucking and grinning like a maniacal sub-human or some demon clawed his way out of hell. What dreams they could have imagined were just that when the villain drained herself onto another, and the young one felt a slice of himself sink further down the spiral, and out the other end came pure hatred and anger, and thus she was dead to him.

Today, someone asked me a question. At first I gave the literal answer, but later on as I stood in the shower I couldn't answer it. I watched leftover dye run out of my hair and swirl down the drain and all I could think is how simple a question it was, how clear and simple...and I didn't have an answer. She asked me the question "where are you?"

It wasn't the fact that I didn't know where I was that bothered me, it's that I didn't have an answer to a simple question. Not the real answer anyways. The greyed water, mixing with the deep red water, all running down in a steady stream from the tips of my hair. Pounding against the cracked white shower base, spattering the walls. Spinning around and around, taking it's time to finally go where it needs to be, and I realized...that's me.

You see them every day...you walk past them and look them right in the eyes...but you have no idea they exist.

They see you...clean...shapeless...and vain...in all your cryptopotancy.

They live in a world that we surround ourselves with, the world of reflection. You will find them hidden among the shiny, arched faucets. You can see their faces in broken mirrors. In pools of water, just tepid enough to let you catch a glimpse, you'll see them winking at you...if you look hard enough...if you let yourself...if you stop trying to see what you think is there, for a brief, fleeting moment, you might see what's really there, and find yourself in it all.

The great machine. Thoughts run through wires. Mechanizations upon mechanizations for which whose sole purpose is instrumentation. Purpose. Now there's a funny word...for purpose is only dictated by the world in which we live, for who we let ourselves be is not what we control and what fate we make is not but our own. We too take orders, and to give them out simply does not justify it. The stars are down tonight, and the pinholes have become fields of light. We burn before we think and the stars are no longer down, but within us just as we are within them. The constant hum, the gritty little rattle and the snicker down the hallway. I wonder what he's thinking at that very moment, as he ceases to control himself. Does he question his succeptibility to influence? The hum, the rattle, the snicker and here I am floating just as dust through the dust and reflecting and refracting the images I feel as I course through the light....and yet, I cant help but feel a little bit vain at the thought of being dust and being self aware.

05/02/07
The sun sets high in the sky. Softly lit, behind the San Jacinto mountains, I sit by the pool of the Caliente Tropics. It's wednesday, some three days after the 2007 Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival. The last of weekend cohorts leaves tommorow. I cant help but feel that it's all come and gone so fast, just as it has the past two years. This was my third time coming here for this, and once again, with no regret in sight, it has been a different experience; not better, not worse, just not the same. But that's not to say it wasn't amazing, because it was, and it is, and probably will continue to be, my favourite time of the year.


04/26/07
Can't eat breakfast, too excited.
The airport is seemingly chock full of people headed to Coachella, speaking strictly in comparison to the previous two years. A few familiar faces. Once we're all through customs we talk (i've come to realize that this is just to make sure that you're all going the same place...even though you can immediately tell). Coachella, music, bands, shows...it's all that's on anyone's minds. BRMC is on my ipod all the way down.
A familiar face, his friend and three unknowns are who I split a cab with from the airport. We tell the cabbie we're headed to empire polo field but on the way there we want to stop at a wal-mart or something (beer, cooler, ice, water, snacks). He takes us to a "76", which is basically a 7-11. We make the best of it (beer, a few bottles of water, some chips and beef jerky). Me, the familiar (John) and his friend (Drew) stay together and part ways with the unkowns when we get to the field. We sneak the beer over the fence and set up camp. General store has no ice. Beer is on hold (maybe for the best). We join the "seriously dude, no pro's, we're fucking amateur's" hacky sack "league", and prove that we're seriously fucking amateur's. We realize that we've unknowingly set up camp in camp canada (section c, interestingly enough) and meet some calgarians. A bit later, the Olympia, WA championship pot smoking (what are we even talking about?) team shows up, after an apparently long, pot-filled/fueled drive. The ice has arrived. Beergin drinking. Olympia wasn't lying, they just lit three joints. Beer/pot bartering begins. What a night.

04/27/07
Wake up at 8. Head hurts. So hot. Breakfast burrito needs more salsa. Remember not to drink the water in the toothbrush water bottle. Five hours of baking in the sun before we go in.

2:30-3:10: Noisette's. Sound is good, band is good, awesome. Hot singer. Tons of energy.
3:30-4:20: Tokyo Police Club. These kids were all looking pretty nervous at first but once the applauds picked up, they rocked. As a side note, Olympia crew was happy with the end time for their set.
4:55-5:45: Of Montreal. Strange, gay and...well, entertaining. The sound at the outdoor stage sucked major homoerotic balls, but I think I was in such a good mood from the first two bands that it didn't bother me too much.
5:45-7:25:Wandering, eating, show jumping, viewing art/exhibits around the festival.
7:25-8:15: Peaches. Fuck she's rad, nothing else needs to be said about her.
8:40-9:30: Peeping Tom. WAY better than I expected. Live>record. The chick he had beatboxing with him was fucking sick, and aside from a couple minor mixing problems (seems no matter how hard you push the button, no sound comes, strange), it was a really tight performance.
9:30-10:30: A bit of Interpol and Sonic Youth. Both sucked.
10:45-12:00: Bjork. Enjoyable, entertaining, wound me down. Not a bad way to end the night.

Went back to the tent, had a beer with a couple of the guys and crashed hard (first day is always the hardest on ya)

04/28/07
8:30 wake-up. We make some shade. It's OK at best, but it does the drink. John drinks beer, but i'm thinking water today, and lots of it. Calgary crew went into town, picked us up a cooler, so more ice and a flat of water (5 bucks in town, as opposed to $48 at the general store. Nice.) BIG HELP.

2:00-2:30: Steve Aoki. Not a bad place to just relax in the shade and check out some decent mashups.
2:35-3:25: The Frames. Nothing special, outdoor stage to boot.
3:30-4:00: Wandering/stage hopping.
4:10-5:00: Hot Chip. This is definately where my day really starts. Dance partaaay. They did a few parts in some of their songs differently, but very well. Made the set alot more interesting to watch. Got my blood pumping.
5:05-5:55: The Nightwatchman. Tom Morello isn't the best acoustic guitar player, or the most original songwriter, but he truly believes in what he's singing about and he does it all with alot of emotion. I thought it was pretty powerful, but in an atypical way. He had some friends join him on stage for his last song, which proved to be a good thing.
6:00-6:15: Peter, Bjorn & John. Caught the tail end, heard their only song I know. It wasn't bad, but they had a really weak finish.
6:40-7:30: !!!. AMAZING. This was not a show, it was a fucking party.
7:45-8:30: Busy P & Dj Mehdi. Ed Banger party. Nothing else needs to be said.
8:40-9:20: Justice. Easily my favourite stage setup/display of the weekend. Amazinly tight set, great sound, great songs. The entire crowd were their friends.
9:40-10:20: LCD Soundsystem. James Murphy is a complete finick for perfection, and it pays off. They were near flawless. There was that strange drunk dude dancing around on stage and eventually joining in playing cowbells or something. They knew him I guess. James didn't look pleased. I wasn't either.
10:40-12:00: The Rapture. What a great way to end the night...singing along to a bunch of awesome songs and shaking my ass (and generally my entire nether regions). They sounded alot more full-sounding live as well, which was a great surprise.

04/29/07
Woke up at 2am to these frantic guys talking outside my tent. "Something, something, RIOT GOING ON!" I was dressed and outside my tent fast. I ask one of the Olympia crew (who obviously heard the same thing I did) what the fuck is going on and he doesn't know. We hear a helicopter approaching and suddenly the searchlight is on, scanning the entire campground. "This is the Los Angeles Police Department. Disperse immediately or you WILL be arrested. This is your final warning." Wow. A line of cops in riot gear are standing still, facing a constantly growing crowd. Apparently, from what hear, this basically all started with a drum circle. A fucking BONGO caused this?!? Over-reaction of the weekend, no question about it. "Wake me up if this shit goes down, i'm going to bed."

Wake up (again) at 8. People are buzzing about the "riot" of the night before. Around 11, an anti-Bush protest is going on somewhere on the other side of the camp. This is so fitting for the day Rage plays there first shows in what? 8 years? Everyone is guessing what they will open with, and how they will open the show. The calgarians, edmontonians and olympians have joined forces to erect a large tart between our tents and we're all packed underneath it in the shade. Apparently we're blocking a fire lane. Fire marshal is telling us we need to take it down and move to the sides. "Oh ya, we'll get right on that dude." We don't. As if any of us wants to spare any energy being scorched by the fucking sun (it got up to like 106 that day I believe).

1:45-2:25: Lupe Fiasco. Not bad, but then again, we were eating/drinking in the beer gardens for most of his set and he was a little ways away. It could have been really bad to watch. I just don't know.
2:40-3:25: DJ Dayhota. Nice place to chill, get outta the heat and dance a bit. Good girl DJ's are always a treat.
3:25-3:45: The Coup. I enjoyed their set (what we watched of it, anyways), but it was really fucking hot at the outdoor stage (which, is usually the case).
3:45-4:50: Food, water, bathrooms and basically just waiting for soulwax to come on.
4:50-5:50: Soulwax. The wait was well worth it.
5:55-6:45: CSS. Biggest surprise of the weekend, hands down. I was basically just walking by the tent they were playing in when they first started and they were sounding wicked so i thought i'd stop in to see if the second song they played would sound as tight. I ended up staying their whole set. Blew me away. These chicks can rock. Also: Purple catsuits on hot chicks? A-OK.
6:45-7:10: Food, lots of water and relaxing (while I can)
7:10-7:20: Head over to the main stage to get a good spot for Rage early on, while you can still do that. Caught the tail end of Willie Nelson. It was pretty good. He was a bit sloppy, but he had lots of energy, looked super stoked on being there and the people were digging it. That's what it's all about.
7:45-8:35: Crowded House. Man, i really felt sorry for these guys. They would end a song and a good portion of the crowd would be chanting "RAGE! RAGE! RAGE!" and all the singer could really do is fake a smile and say "don't worry! they're coming!" Singer got hit with a bottle. It was really poor set planning on Golden Voice's part, that bad should have never played at that time on that stage.
8:35-9:15: Starting to get a bit more crowded, not bad though. Sun setting, looks amazing here, especially with the stage basically all shadows.
9:15-10:15: Manu Chao. Wow, I never thought I would see a massively popular band (at least down here, among the mexican's) suck so badly...they basically played the same 4-4 punk drum beat to a shredding guitar and basic 4-chord progressions on a second guitar and bass (most of which sounded almost identical) for EVERY chorus, and then to top it off they sung some "woh yah" "yah hey" "oo oh" or some variation of that over it. Verses were not TOO bad, but they were definately nothing to write home about. Fuck was this shit ever annoying. At least they got alot of people's blood flowing, not me. They did get me all wound up, though, which was perfect for Rage.
10:15-10:40: Push, shove, pull, fall, sway. Nothing major. Understatement of the weekend? "It's hot in here." No shit. "Why are people pushing so much?" "Do you have ANY fucking clue where you are or who is about to play???!? You're at a fucking concert, and RAGE AGAINST THE FUCKING MACHINE is about to play. EAT SHIT" Ahahah, fuck that dude was rad, he basically said what the ENTIRE crowd was thinking (minus that one chick, she just didn't get it). Talked to a guy about how we were basically lovers because we were basically doing a vertical spoon. The mood (around me anyways) was very light and excited. Everyone was just so happy that they only had to wait a LITTLE bit longer to see rage.
10:40-11:45: RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE. They walked on stage to a roar of applause, picked up their instruments and Zach (now sporting a mini-fro, in favour of the dreads) picked up the mic. "good evening, we are rage against the machine from los angeles, california." During the first two songs I just about lost my shoes and my backpack got pulled open (luckily strapped to my front) and I luckily only lost one water bottle.
Setlist (including encore): testify, bulls on parade, people of the sun, bombtrack, bullet in the head, down rodeo, guerrilla radio, renegades of funk, calm like a bomb, sleep now in the fire, wake up, freedom, killing in the name.
All hits, no misses, no bullshit, just business (lol). Right up until just before the last song nobody on stage said anything between the songs. Then right before they finished the straight set (not the encore), Zach said a very direct, angry speech that, summed up, said "take the power back, with blood, george bush's blood". After their last song, they just walked off stage. It was fucking amazing, the crowd, albeit calmed down from earlier in the set (maybe exhausted is a better word?) was going fucking nuts. This show was easily the craziest pit i've ever been in.
12:00-12:10: Rage encore. Alot of mosh, alot of water and alot of happy fans. After Killing In The Name, they stood together, fist's raised, and one by one filed off stage. I think just about everyone had one thought running through their heads at this point. "Now i'm complete, now I can die happy." It was a nice calm walk among a sea of truly happy people, people who were too exhausted and in too good of a mood to even remotely act like dicks. Back in camp, everyone was the same way.

We all sat around for an hour or so, talking about the weekend's experiences, sharing leftover snacks, beer and pot. A nice closer for the night. We exchange names and numbers and crash.


04/30/07
Around 9, everyone seems to be crawling out of their tents. The Olympia crew left around 6 (i'm guessing, it was early), along with a fairly sizeable chunk of the camp who left the night before. We pack our shit up and trek out from the camp to try and catch a cab. After being hussled and conned out of about 4 cabs, drew manned up and hiked a long ways down and got one. The cab driver was a solid dude. Gave some interesting incite into being lower middle class and raising a daughter in a rich town like palm springs. Also, some colourful incite in the homosexual tendencies of palm springs (apparently, from what i'm told, there is only one heterosexual club in palm. also to note: the mayor is not only homosexual, he's also black! Jinkies!)

We drink in and around the pool and the hot tub all day/night, even after it "closed" (the "night manager", who turned out not to be the night manager at all, gave us the gate lock). When the real night manager showed up, Robb (possibly on purpose) punts one of the few glass bottles we have. Shortly after, we retire to one of the rooms, where Leith ponders the ups and downs of stealing sidelit face mirrors from hotels. It winds down from there and we all head to bed. As a side note, speaking from a sober 20/20 hindsight, Leith is probably really lucky he didn't attempt that roof-jump into the pool. It's a pretty big gap.

05/01/07
It's strange how dumbed down some people are. I was getting a headache being in that fucking restaraunt, and i'm pretty sure I wasn't alone. Listen, "waitress", if you want to watch shitty re-runs of "yes, dear", then, by all means, go the fuck home and do just that, but don't watch that shit when I need a re-fill. Also, this club sandwhich, even when i squish it, it's WAY TO BIG to fit in my mouth. Seriously, americans are sometimes SO fucked up. I'm never going to this place again. Ever.

Me and Dawn took an extended walk, unknowingly into the "ghetto", trying to find a bookstore. I see a man walking and I ask him if he knows where a bookstore is, to which he replies "what? you mean like porno's?". ummm, what? turn's out he was homeless and lied about directions to a bookstore (they were really shitty, on the spot directions) so i would give him change. I'm glad i didn't. Either way, if there was any doubt he cleared it up when he told me "hey, you know what? I LIEEEEEDDDDD TO YOUUUUUU!!! HAHAH". Holy shit. Anyways, turns out the bookstore was like 2 blocks in the opposite direction from where we started walking. Oh well, at least we found like 150 furniture and antique stores in a row, you know, if we ever need furniture or antiques while in palm springs.

05/03/07
A calm morning. A soft goodbye. A stellar burn.

05/04/07
A sizeable chunk of WWZ read, hopefully I finish it before getting home. Wandered around downtown for an hour or so. Rode a bus around and got to know the place a bit better. Got overcast and a little bit chilly (for the area, anyways...I was getting pretty used to the temperature at this point), so I watched nba and took a nap. It's always a lonely feeling day, the day after they leave.

05/05/07
As the sun dims to a gentle warmth, and the curtains close on this place for another year, I can feel some sense of purpose and longing...both to be back at home and to be back here next year. Reflecting on the past week and all the new friends made and the old friendships brought anew, I'm feeling truly happy, and anything but alone. However, spending the past two days by myself has really hit my soul hard, and i've been wanting the comforts of home like nobody's business. Makes you realize that it doesn't matter where you are, or how nice out it is, or how many people surround you...if you're not with friends, you can still feel completely alone. Maybe I didn't REALLY come to California with an aching in my heart, but i'm sure as hell leaving this place with one. I guess I just miss my friends is all.

05/06/07
A really great surprise at checkout...when Dawn left, she was suppose to only be paying for half, but they accidentally rang the whole week through with her card, so at check out I only had to pay 3 dollars in phone charges. I totally knew the price was too much per night. All my flights today have gone smooth , no baggage problems. Lucky me. I miss the place, but I miss the place.

p.s: as i wrote that last entry, I finished writing RIGHT before this big, fat ass, sweaty, bald, head to toe denim wearing douchebag from grand prairie sat down beside and commented on how the seats were too small, how the article i was reading in popular science was neat (my peripheral vision told me he was looking over and reading it as well), and that the idea's were cool, and how people come up with some crazy shit...oh, and we were taxiing down the runway, ya, he asked if were driving to edmonton. This was before we even took off. Fuck I miss the desert.

The sun beats down hard against my pale skin. Weathered and dry, seasonably flushed...I feel true life being breathed into me. The arms of another coasting into my own in remembrance of another time in the same place. Isn't there love to be embraced inside the memory of a face? I drown my anxiety and fear of this all in the fact that once started, some great machines can not be stopped. You may push and pull on all it's gears and mechanisms, but they will not break free of the hold they have. In a way, I think that everyone can find some great opus in some simple thing, and maybe, for me at least, it's in seeing this place again; feeling that old familiar heat, walking over the city built on dust. I can once again smile at the brief, fleeting feeling of freedom and the comfort of the place.

Between the ash of the logical and the hopes of the dreamer's you may find comfort in the fact that things will never change. The only change is people themselves, we see no consistency, but still...the ash will always pour out and the hearts will always hope. I keep the hope myself that maybe one day the logical will make things right and the dreamer's can feel accomplishment. We see no consistency, so progress is really just a sign that things will only build up to a denoument followed by another progression in another direction. Is it really so much of a war of classifications? Maybe it is, but i'm so torn that I just can't see the big picture so clear anymore.

It all starts with a coin. You find it on the street, pick it up for good luck and sooner or later you’re making perfect change for a coffee. It moves through the system like heroine in a junkie, and sooner or later it ends up in the rattling coffee cup of a junkie. But you can keep your coins, I want change.

My name is Nicholas VanBuren and I am the man responsible for moving those coins. I work for a security company that deals with the transportation of U.S mint. We pick up the unmarked bags at point A at a non-specific time. We quickly and discreetly move them to point C. You may be wondering why there is no point B. I’ll assure you that’s because it’s not that simple.

“IF I SO MUCH AS SEE A TWITCH FROM ANY ONE OF YOU FUCK’S, MRS. NANCY OWENS HERE IS GOING TO BE FEELING A WHOLE FUCK OF A LOT WORSE”
“ms.” So I crack her temple open with the butt of my gun, I don’t have time for foreplay.
Hollywood will lead you to believe that you have 2 minutes to get in and out, which, quite frankly speaking, leaves no time for oral. But then, we’re talking about robbery and not sex, so in a manner of a speaking, it’s even less time. My name is Alexander Simian and I am the reason why your interest rate just went up.

This I can do. I can can stand on the edge of this place and watch it crumble beneath my feet. I can run as fast as my heart will let me and when my feet give up I can flow with the winds and ebb into the sky's. I can swim out to the middle of a lake and when I give up i'll sink forever, and you'll be with me. We'll fall, just as every majestic falls...we'll fly hand in hand and you'll whisper to me "we're not meant for this"...and we'll sink. We'll sink so long as we dont breathe. So long as you stay with me and you never breathe, we'll sink together. So long as stop trying to be something we're not and we just let life happen, for once in our lives. This I can do (I think).

Maybe it's been so long that i've been stuck in these motions, i've just forgot exactly what i've been doing with my life. Tonight I realized what my major malfunction is and, for the first time in a long time, I think I can begin to relax. If you're wondering, it's completion.

I cant live without completion, consumption and absorption of escape. I read books and comics, magazines, watch movies and television, play video games, listen to music...anything, just so long as I can start it and finish it. I'm never okay with just one, it always has to be multiple things.

I mean, ya, i've always realized i'm a junkie for media, in all it's forms, but I've never really understood why, and I guess now I do.

I finished a book, wrapped a game and got my passport today. We'll see what happens tommorow.