the science of silence.

it's interesting to note what place certain personalities take in each others lives.

and to realize that the people you love most are rarely your "ideal."




i used to have faith in some idealistic universalism, but these days i'm more of a follower of the church of contentment. not hedonism... just positive outcomes for all.


on the note of ideals:
i'm none of them and i never will be.
how i'm making a living doing what i do is fucking beyond me.






i'm forcing the issue of getting out of philly and hoping when i return i will be out of this funk. i need to generate some income, see some familiar and new faces and breathe different air.

big brother and the twitternet.

no, i will not be signing up for twitter.

i already have an ex's therapist stalking my online persona, along with who knows what random assortment of people from my past and recently an angry, malicious follower who decides to anonymously post spiteful things on my entries every once in a while.

aside from the drama, i am simply a private being.

i like staying in my house for days at a time,
and i don't enjoy others knowing what i'm doing or who i'm with.
i'm not secretive, i just enjoy things individually.




call me a creeper, i guess.

inspiracy.

bury your skeletons.


love your dreams, and chase them.



i have decided to indefinitely surround myself with people who add to me, not subtract. i've been so devoid of inspiration, too focused on rationalizing the darkness, and my work and productivity has suffered.



i swing violently between being overjoyed and feeling lucky, to painfully self critical and hopeless. it's a balance though, the filters that are my eyes and lips will tell you that much.





i need violence.

no secret to life.

i'm bawling my eyes out in the minneapolis airport, doing my very best to be inconspicuous so no one asks me what's wrong. my lack of ability to define my problems would probably only make me weep much harder.

i did something i needed to today, but i feel awful about it.




february was too much.

unraveling is too kind a verb,
too slow and too predictable.

i feel like a glacier on the move, shedding tons of my self into the ocean and leaving giant monuments to my journey in my wake. always melting.






my most persistent flaw and perhaps one of the defining traits of my being is the overabundance of love contained in my being. it confuses and distracts me, and enables even the unknowing to manipulate me a mere wave of the phalanges...






how else can i serve you?
how in the world can i serve me?