uhhh
My fuzzy clock tells me its Five to Ten, I quit my job yesterday and some Things I May Want to Do are coming into focus, but not completely until I can realign the rangefinder assembly on the Kiev or replace the headphone jack on the Ipod and figure out what to do about stereo microphones.

Things are so fucked up top with Iraq and domestically that I've found the only way to deal with it is to ignore it all, unless I am directly involved in its change. Obama's gearing up for a lanced death chamber cage match with Clinton and while Barack wields a cutlass and buckler, Hillary shoots Greek Fire out of her eyes - apparently the Rodhams inherited the formula and kept it secret all these centuries.

And, who's kidding who here - there are only ... six people on this thing that I really give a shit about, so do I write this blogorrhea for you all, myself, or both? Is it helpful to visualize my thinking? If so I could just write in a notebook. If not I am, in secret, an attention craving whore who shits on that which he stomps, and now, with that written, do I accept or reject? You cannot write on Live Journal without an audience in mind. It would be much more raw and basic without.

How personal should this become? My thinking is sometimes penetrated by solipsist dysfunction and it becomes difficult to reconcile that I am a member of the human race, as well as a social community of local friends and internet acquaintances. The spell checker said I should capitalize "internet". Fuck you man.

I think I'm a sort of loser, but it doesn't phase me very much because I view it as a temporary condition through which I must pass to arrive at the other end of the sea. Maybe, being 22, with 23 not too soon coming, aids my denial of life with fake constructs of youth as permanence. There are lot of things I think of myself as, but am not, really. It takes commitment and passion and blood to assume any kind of identity beyond mere living to live, and of the three I've expended very little.

I have ideas and notions and fancies but...usually just end up shutting down for a night or a day and telling myself it's another step in between.

Huh, look at all that. Something, my six Live Journal friends, is fucked.