I Am Seattle, Hear Me Roar

This is a picture of a very dangerous man. He enjoys playing Soccer, going to movies with Friends, and other pursuits gleaned from religiously viewed reruns of Saved By The Bell.


Been there, done that, that's that.
Mom's don't give up. To a mother, the cord's never been cut, just growing to accommodate moves across country. I have no problem with this arraignment aside from her insistence on eating "Textured Vegetable Protein". With no job, bicycle, car, or immediate family, I've been cut off from the world in a tower of garbage...In a good way. No. Not in a good way. It's habit to use that word.

With nothing to do, I've pounded my soul into atrophy by refusing to feed it. His belly is stretched high and wide at the moment. Hence: I'm very happy to be alive, be here and be me. It's so easy to get lost in the tedious and WHAM BOOM a month has passed. I almost went on Spring Break with the gang. It would have been fun. I would have gotten to get even MORE poison oak and revisited the happy forests of the Nicene Valley where no one can possibly hurt themselves. Such fun would have been decadently opulent. Fun's...well fun but I don't need to have fun right now. Hard labor, books, and ham sandwiches are the altars contentment lays around.

Living with four of your friends changes you. If a poop's over a foot, you don't flush, sanctifying your porcelain dome as an excrement Hall of Fame. You share meals, booze, and occasionally women. If you don't share the woman, you'll at least share an infatuation before concluding that everyone in the house feels the same way. Finally, and moreover the reason most live with friends is that it's really damned fun. The dancing, the drinking, the binge nights of HORSE. There isn't a single thing we haven't done in the past two years out here. If variety's the spice of life, mine's Indian Food, so spicy it fills the entire mouth with flavor, leading to future diarrhea.

I'm living in Los Angeles, Ca with friends and the pursuit of film making because I thought it would make me happy. It has for the most part but there is a lot left untouched. This lifestyle takes a toll on your wiring,, so afflicted was I, that by the time I stayed for three unfettered weeks at my Father's farm in Indiana...without another soul to see in the night...the living situation that had been normal since domesticity started resonated as a religious experience.

Talking with others about the experience, everyone basically gives the same answer.
"I just want a plot of land to call my own."

Happiness will soon come from pills.