Sunday, November 27th

10:25 a.m.: "See you in a few weeks." "Do you have everything?" "Love you." "Say bye to Oma for me." "Have a good flight."

11:07 a.m.: "Flight 1196 to Chicago, originally at 12:30, is now delayed until 1:30."

1:02 p.m.: "Wide right and short! This game will go to overtime. Chargers 17, Redskins 17."

1:03 p.m.: "Now boarding group 6 onto flight 1196 to Chicago. Boarding groups 1-6."

1:09 p.m.: "Going back to school?" "Yeah. 3 days in the sunshine wasn't enough." "Tell me about it. You go to Harvard?" "Yeah." "Cool. I go to Trinity, in Hartford." "I hear Hartford's a cool city." "Haha. Well, it's trying." "That's good. I'm Brian" "David. Nice to meet you."

1:28 p.m.: "This is your captain speaking. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like we're being pushed back on the list here. Our new flight time is 2:30."

1:29 p.m.: "Fuck."

1:34 p.m: "They won? I can't believe that!" "Yeah dude, LT went up the middle, 50 yards, game over!" "That's so cool. I gotta go, take it easy." "Have a good flight" "Thanks, man."

1:35 p.m.: "They won?" "Yeah, on an LT run." "Sweet, they needed that one." "tell me about it."

2:27 p.m: "This is your captain again from the cockpit. Unfortunately, we've been pushed back some more. They have shut down one of the runways in Chicago, so now there are only 2. We've been pushed back to 3:30. If you would like to get off the plane and get something to eat, we're going to unlock the doors here in a minute. Again, sorry for the inconvenience."

2:34 p.m.: "Just the sandwich, yeah."

2:48 p.m.: "all passengers on flight 1196 to Chicago please come to gate 25 for immidiate re-boarding."

2:56 p.m.: "I give it a 1 in 30 chance of taking off."

3:12 p.m.: "flight attendants prepare for take-off."

8:42 p.m. (central standard time): "We are so terribly sorry for all the delays. welcome to Chicago."

8:58 p.m.: "Can i have one of those baja burrito things please."

9:06 p.m.: "yeah, i just got something to eat. The flight to Hartford is delayed until 10:30. Yes i'm tired."

9:27 p.m.: "It was pretty good. I got it down there in the food court."

10:25 pm.: "Now boarding group 6 on flight 1192 to Hartford. Group 6, now boarding"

1:57 a.m. (eastern standard time): "Ladies and gentlemen, Welcome to Hartford."

2:09 a.m.: "Where you going?" "Trinity College." "98 dollars." "98 dollars??" "No, sorry...28 dollars. I was thinking of the girl before you."

2:24 am.: "Which cab are you waiting for?" "Manchester #1" "Come on in."

2:41 a.m.: "Where you from?" "California." "Its nice up there now?" "yes."

2:52 a.m.: "My name is Saleem, here is my card..." "thank you" "any time you need to go to the airport or anything, I'd like to be your personal cab driver." "thank you. Have a good evening." "just give me a call!" "thank you. good night."

3:00 a.m.: "[grunt]"

3 parts of a return

uh, so i went home, like most people did, and i was going to write about it until i read some other people's online diarys' entries about them going home and i didn't want to write about it anymore.

so instead i will say this:

i understand California now.

California is a reality that most east coasters wish they could wake up to, but it is not real and will always be a dream for them. I, on the other hand, woke up from that dream every day hoping to be back in reality. but instead i was still in the dream, like falling asleep in the ocean and waking up back on the shore.

Homeward Bound

Sou yeah.

It struck me as interesting that when I land in beautiful San Diego tomorrow evening I am most likely going to pass somebody who is arriving at that airport from whichever of the fine institutions of higher education that call san Diego home he applied, was accepted, and matriculated at. He will have arrived at the airport because he is leaving San Diego to go home.

He (or she) will be leaving my home to go back to his home. Let's say hypothetically this person lives in Hartford. We have quite the connection, but it is likely we will never meet - he will take residence in my home at the times i will be doing the same in his, and when he is home for the holidays i will be no longer in his home city. He likely feels foreign in my city, and writes home about how warm and perfect the weather is. I do the same, except I write home about how the weather here reminds me of having the flu.

How will I be able to find this person? I won't.

What I can do, though, is hope that she knows that I exist, too, and maybe we can both think of each other when we're miles above places we've never dreamed of setting foot on.

Welcome

I changed it up a bit. For those two of you who are my loyal readers, this will be a welcome change, as the other one was clogged, dark, and hard to read.

For those of you new cats attracted by the bright light...welcome! My name is David. i like pre-sliced bagels and swiss cheese, but not american cheese. I like bottled root beer and poster stores. I live in the 3rd largest state geographically and go to college in the 48th largest state geographically (or is it the 3rd smallest? ah, philosophy).

I hope you return often.

Beisbol

I love the moves the Padres are making. Nady-for-Cameron is brilliant - i really think Nady was given more than enough chances to become consistent. I'm only surprised that he left the team sooner than burroughs did. Cameron is exactly what this team needs, a marquee player who will make the highlight reels and bring a personality that they have been lacking. Roberts will play more games because he won't be putting as much strain on his groin as he was when he played center field. Hopefully he'll be able to adjust. I like the Castilla move - I dont think B-law was going to get any better any time soon. I wish him the best of luck, i really did like him. He didnt have the drive, though. Castilla is obviously not a long-term solution, but he sure beats Burroughs. I was a big Randa fan but I think he wanted to be closer to KC, his home. I think he's a great fit. I like the rumor about Jaques Jones to play in right field - I think he would be great. That would be an incredibly athletic outfield with some pop that was lacking last year. Hopefully they can get him for a good price and get Hoffy back. Giles is a goner, unfortunately. This moves Klesko back to first. I really was fed up with Klesko towards the end of the season. He was a bad right fielder and always seemed to be complaining. perhaps the move to first will take his mind off of fielding and he can get back up to 20-25 homers this next year. Loretta had an off year with the injury, i dont expect him to bat .333 with 15 homers and 200 hits again but hopefull he can be around .300. Greene is set for a big year, if he can not break a finger or a toe like he has the first two seasons. That's the infield. That leaves catcher - that's a tough call. Ramon has been very good if not streaky at the plate. I haven't heard many rumors about him but I know that most teams need a quality backstop and he certainly is one. Olivo had a great few months last year but obviously its yet to be seen if he can keep it up for an entire season. I think they should see how far off they are from Ramon's demands, and then decide if that extra money would be worth spending elsewhere, i.e. pitching. I wouldn't be too devastated if he went, but i certainly would welcome him back. If he does come back that might make Olivo expendable. Starting pitching looks alright, we gotta see how Chan Ho will work with a full season at a pitcher's ballpark. Will Woody improve his season? and can Eaton return to his early 2005 form? I like Astacio as well, they should bring him back if he doesn't get a huge offer from a big market team who can take a chance on him. Boomer Wells coming back would be great, I think they could trade for him by parting with Burroughs, who is expendable as we re-signed Geoff Blum (great move) to backup at third, and maybe throw a prospect or two in there. A lefthanded starter would be teriffic. As for the bullpen, Towers will work some magic again as he usually does in that situation. And as for Trevor...you just gotta bring him back. No question about it, it's absolutely necessary. I won't be able to look at him in another uniform.

Damn, do I love this team or what. Can't wait for next season. 136 days till opening day.

Charger Girl

Sou yeah

I'm here in this lovely library, surrounded by a million plus volumes of the best that human minds have to offer the world in every subject imaginable, working on my paper about Billy Shakespeare, listening to one of the most brilliant musicians to grace the earth, John Coltrane, working on a machine which has changed the way people live, a laptop, and on my screen I am looking at the profiles of the Charger Girls (the scantily-clad sporting enthusiasts who support the San Diego Chargers football team). I am looking because, well, that's not important, but I learned one extremely important fact about a certain Charger girl. This particular Charger girl: Apart from being extremely attractive in an Aryan, white-power, brainless broomstick-with-boobs kind of way, under college she has put: "N/A", and under major degree she has put "communications". I am not entirely sure how one can complete a degree in communications without attending a college, but that's not for us mere mortals to discuss here on earth. But that's not what caught my eye about this mind-numblingly attractive blonde alma-mater-less communications major, whose career goals include "I want to be a mom, stay home and raise my kids", and whose qualifications for being a Charger girl include her breasts. What caught me, and what made me so fascinated with this otherwise fascinating piece of ass was this:

"Favorite Author: God"

Now, from this answer to the question of favorite author we can logically assume the following: She believes either (a) that the bible was written divinely, (b) she believes that God is the "author" (metaphor) of all human life, or (c) she has a seperate name for J.K. Rowling than the rest of us. Whatever the answer, I learned an incredibly valuable lesson. Namely, that if you are attractive, nobody gives a shit how dumb you are, they're still going to hire you. Even if you believe that God received his or her B.A. in English from, we can only assume, N/A University.

brilliance

i typed all this out, as it is definitely worth reading y'all.

“I’m sorry,” replied the stranger in a soft voice, “but in order to be in control, you have to have a definite plan for at least a reasonable period of time. So how, may I ask, can man be in control if he can’t even draw up a plan for a ridiculously short period of time, say, a thousand years, and is, moreover, unable to ensure his own safety even for the next day? And, indeed,” here the stranger turned to Berlioz, “suppose you were to start controlling others and yourself, and just as you developed a taste for it, so to speak, you suddenly went and … well… got lung cancer…” – at which point the foreigner chuckled merrily, as if the thought of lung cancer brought him pleasure. “Yes, cancer,” he repeated, narrowing his eyes like a cat as he savored the sonorous word, “and there goes your control! No one’s fate is of any interest to you except your own. Your relative start lying to you. You, sensing that something is wrong, run to learned physicians, then to quacks, and maybe even to fortune-tellers in the end. And going to any of them is pointless, as you well know. And it all ends tragically: that same fellow who not so long ago supposed that he was in control of something ends up lying stiff in a wooden box, and those present, realizing that he is no longer good for anything, cremate him in an oven. Why, even worse things can happen: a fellow will have just decided to make a trip to Kislovodsk,” – here the foreigner narrowed his eyes at Berlioz, “a trivial matter, it would seem, but he can’t even accomplish that because for some unknown reason he goes and slips and falls under a streetcar! Would you really say that’s an example of control over himself? Wouldn’t it be more correct to say that someone other than himself is in control?” – and at this point the stranger laughed a strange sort of laugh.

~Mikhail Bulgakov

grandmas are awesome

I called up my grandma and we talked about college and shtuff, and she asked me this:

"Do you have a good light above your desk so you don't hurt your eyes when you're trying to read?"

pashon?

sou, to do this thing called tutorial college next year i have to do an application, and the options for essay were:

1. write about a book you have always wanted to read but haven't. why would you like to read this book?

2. what is your passion? write about it.

3. if you had teh chance to devote three months to studying whatever you'd like to study, what would you choose to do? etc etc

I chose number 2, as I think myself a passionate person. Thoughts? Comments? Anything?

My Passion

The late July humidity still hung over Kyoto like a vast, all-encompassing wool blanket, but after three weeks there I only noticed it in the back of my mind. Wiping sweat off of my brow had become second nature, like scratching an itch or popping my ears when I go up into high altitude. The backpack hanging on my shoulders was heavy, full of last-minute gifts my host family, the Yanagiharas, had given me before I left their narrow urban home across the street from train tracks leading into downtown. As wiping my forehead had become second nature, sleeping through the numerous late-night trains and trams racing down those tracks had also become habit. My first night there, surrounded by electric fans and foreign walls, I had woken up countless times because of these trains, but my last night I slept soundly through them.
There on the platform at Kyoto Station with me were 18 fellow American travelers, and many of their host families’ members. Representing the Yanagihara family was my host mother (who signs her emails to me “Kyoto mama”), my host brother Takuma, and my host mother’s father, who lived with the family.
He hadn’t said much to me in my days living under the same roof as him, save for a few comments about our mutual interest in baseball, and when he was drunk at a restaurant we went out to. The family only went out to dinner three times a year, I was told, and as if they hadn’t made me feel welcome enough, they decided to schedule one of those three times while I was living with them. After my host-grandfather had had a few sakes, he gregariously looked at me and commended my ability to drink an Asahi beer. Beyond those few times, he was stoic and said very little.
Although the program wasn’t set up with this goal in mind, I became closer with my host mother than I did my host brother. When I showed her a picture of my family during my first hour in their house, she showed a genuine interest in these perfect strangers as I had never seen in someone I knew, let alone someone I just met. I showed them the gifts I had brought from America, and she received them as if they were undeserved, as if they would not be sharing their home with me for 10 days, feeding me, showing me the real Japan. We talked, using their electronic dictionary for the harder words, about my life back in America, what I wanted to study in college, her family, her husband (whom I never met; he was doing agricultural cultivation projects in China), and how we felt about the chances for peace in the world. This last topic may surprise many people, as my Japanese was good but certainly not academic, and her English almost nonexistent. How we reached this subject, I honestly do not remember. In my Japanese classes we usually did not get beyond what we liked, what we planned on doing that weekend, what we wanted to be when we grew up, basically, things that you talk about with three years worth studying a language. But somehow our conversations came to being about different cultures getting along, people with opposing opinions accepting each other, and being able to communicate through these obstacles. I had had much experience with this in my time in Israel studying the Israelis conflict with Palestine, and she told of her and her husband’s relations with China, with whom Japan has had serious issues for centuries, and were just at that time beginning once again to come to the forefront.
I put down my suitcase and bowed deeply to her, and then I gave her a hug. I took a step back, and I could see she was trying to say something, but both she and I knew that the things we each wanted to say to each other would most likely not be understood. She patted her heart with her hand, and said to me “Onaji kimochi ne. Wakarimasu ne.” We have the same feeling, I know it. In this foreign land for me, with a student she’d only just met, we made that connection. Without a common language, heritage, religion, background, age, or future, we found a way to communicate, so much so that we didn’t even have to talk to understand each other. We had made a living example of that which we had wished for the world. It wasn’t verbal or physical, and it wasn’t there when I first arrived in the Far East. But gradually it grew into me; somewhere in Japan I found it, even if it was as imperceptible as a bullet train passing by a house in the silence of night.
That is my passion.

sou ya

So yeah.

This is what I think.

I have this weird thing. and it's not something im proud of or that i'm ashamed of, It's kind of, just there, you know, reader?
There's this group of people, I couldn't even put a cap on it, name specific people, they may have receded into my memory. Sure I could name a few of them but there'd be no point, and that's not the point of this rambling anyway. But the thing is, and I beg you not to jump to a conclusion here, I've always, even since i've left california in my rear view mirror and will likely not see many of them again (not by choice, mind you, just by the way these things work. 6 billion folks in this here marble we're sittin on, lots of people to take up the space around you). but i feel this desire to prove something to them. prove that i did things my way and i came out on top. that i am....well yeah. they didn't do anything actively against me, never fought, never nothing of that sort. I just always felt like, well, they didnt show me any respect in their minds. I guess what I'm saying is that i want kind of for in a few years them to hear of me or see me or whatever and wish they had, um, something? i dont know, this is an incomplete theory about myself. but, y'know, most of them, they stayed in california. and i didn't, i came to a place knowing almost nothing about it, knowing exactly nobody, away from everyone, throwing myself into this pool of black, freezing, empty uncertainty, and i feel like i did it almost looking at them as they sat in their jacuzzi with all their friends and complained that it was warm and could you please get me a diet coke and some weed. and as I hear or read silly internet journals or whatever, and see they can't wait to go home, they miss so much home, bla bla, i say to myself, nobody else "you idiot, you didnt even leave the state, there's 25 people you already know from high school where you are, you left a month after I did, look what I had to do, i did it the hard way, you barely had to adjust to anything, you got it easy, and look at me, im not complaining, and i left all you fuckers behind, RESPECT ME god dammit." and this group, i felt, always thought that they were the shit, their music was "da music', dressed like they didnt care which in turn made them look cool, did school shit, OH YEAH. thats the other thing, the fucking school (its harmless, a good metaphor being that i was so concerned that this book i had kept for a year or so was going to have a fine of god knows how many cents, but i gave it back and pulled out my wallet and they said dont worry, no charge, signifying of course i took them way more seriously than they had taken me) who gave me the cold shoulder cause i didnt have fucking grades or took AP everything, wasn't in ASB (students of the world, dissociate!), and did my own shit outside of school, im going to prove to them, look, you fuckers, i can do it my way and i STILL came out on top of you, so screw you, baha. and i try to do it in EVERYTHING, i will write my way to their demise, musicise, social actionise, and you, what did you do, you played in the system, BAAAA, you sheep, and you came out on top, and i was the other kid who wore ethe sweatshirt who... well we don't know anything about him, he's going to some school on the east coast somewhere, who gives a shit, lets never hear from him again BUT YOU WILL HEAR FROM ME AGAIN, i will come back, and you will regret saying that, and I will win, only, and this is the kicker, dear reader, this right here is one hell of a kicker, I AM NOT GOING TO TELL THEM, they will find out on their own, see my name on the bestseller table, and they will think to themselves, him? him? him? and i will be in my cabin somewhere in Alaska or british columbia or on my kibbutz in the negev or in a secluded shack in rural hokkaido, and i will feel it, and i will have won, won, won, and then they will try and contact me, call me, with good intentions of course, and i will pick up the phone, answer the email, get up to open the door, and I will say, i will say, i will say, when they say "remember in high school?" and i will have a burning sensation starting in my feet and then my hair will catch fire, and in less than the smallest amount of measurable time i will relive that whole thing, relive how i was ignored by these people, how i was just average because the numbers said i was average, just a name in a story, nothing special, nothing bad, how i sat here this afternoon and released this hose which was tied in a knot so tightly that the water pressured its way through the rubber and ran down the green lining like sweat on the brow of a merchant worker, i unleashd the fury of the water, i will look in their kind blue and brown and green eyes, and i will say, i will scream, i will yell, whisper, say to myself and to the whole world and the veins that run underneath the ground, i will say

más cuadros

im on a photo taking streak, so i took some of my campus. its pretty sometimes.

fixing a hole where the rain comes in

i fixed up two of those pics, i think they look pretty cool





quote of the day:

"God story for the day: When Dave came by last night, he was telling me how he had lost all his Torrey notes and he didn't know what he was going to do. I didn't know what to tell him, so I said I would pray about it, and it's seriously been on my mind since then. When I saw Teri in the Caf she's like, "Your friend Dave came by the room--He said to tell you he found his bag!" (!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

God is SO ridiculously amazing! It makes me so happy! =)"



I'll let that one sit for a while.

And you're going to tell me that religion does not brainwash people? That religion is a real serious thing?

That this girl's God somehow has NOTHING more important on its mind than finding some dude's bag, while hundreds of thousands of CATHOLICS, people, CATHOLICS, are dying every day in Africa because the church preaches abstinence over contraceptives. That many CHRISTIANS live in POVERTY.

But if you pray for some dude to find his bag, clearly, God pulled it out of God's pocket, said "I"ve had my fun," and then put the bag back where "Dave" left it.

I just gotta laugh, except then I remember that this girl isn't joking.

Allow me to say one more thing: If i leave my backpack at the cafeteria, then i leave, forget where I left it, pray to find it, then go back to the cafeteria the next morning for breakfast and find it there...that is not God. I did not find it as a result of praying.

FYI: I'm still jewish.

les images

sacrez-bleu

it seems my pictures dont want to go up yet

ill put them up soon, dont worry reader.

Oh...Canada....

It was....magnifique.

I hated it, loved it, couldn't wait to leave, didn't want to leave, froze my ass off, warmed my heart up, drank, abstained, drove, slept, explored, said "merci", cursed the french...yeah, it was like that.

the first 4 are of montreal in autumn.

the last one is the most beautiful scene i have had the pleasure to take a picture of, i believe. I give all the credit to the big lady upstairs, mommy nature. i found it after we pulled over to use the facilities at a gas station in Quebec somewhere.


Mesdames et messieurs, je vous donne: Montréal

bonjour?

So, yeah. Thursday morning I had no plans for the weekend. by thursday night i was doing some international travel. going to...CANADA!. Montreal to be specific. how terribly random but amazingly cool. the camera will be out (though i dont think we're going to be there whie it's light.... the people im going with are nightlife people, and i'm not, but we'll see how it goes.

hooray. pictures and stories to come

stay tuned.

same time, same site, see you in 2 days, America. I'm crossing the Maple Curtain.

Where are you guys at UC such and such going on a road trip? San fran? BAHAHAHAH.

Hiroshima

It is bright and clear in Connecticut today.
A brisk wind sweeps past my bare feet;
I curl my toes into the ground to keep them warm.
Red and yellow leaves mingle with each other
On their trips down from tree tops
And the sun hides, shyly
Behind an off-white cloud.

I do not know what today is like
In Hiroshima.
It may be a picture-perfect autumn day
Or perhaps the crowded, broad downtown lanes
Are a sea of umbrellas, protection against
Cold rain.

Weather aside, I know that
There is almost definitely
Two boys riding their bikes, side
By side, in matching uniform
On their way home from school.
A mid-level company worker
Slurps his Udon, alone, in the
Corner of a small shop
In a lonely alleyway.
Perhaps a skinny junior high student
Receives his first kiss from a
Nervous classmate,
And rushes home to write about it
In his diary.

Is this the same city
That was flat on the ground,
Choking on a cloud of black smoke,
Its name synonymous with destruction
Of a man’s creation?

They told me it was to save lives.
That had the bomb not been dropped,
The Japanese would have lost more lives
In a war with America. That in order for war’s end
Hiroshima sacrificed itself, willingly or not,
For the good of all other cities.

But there is no glory in Hiroshima.
To be destroyed so that others
May be spared.
Like picking a flower from a small garden
And gently laying it to rest
On a memorial for those
Who perished
In the name of peace.

いいん だよ。

今から十五分初めのゴジラの映画を見に行きます。すごいことはこの見る映画は全部日本語で見せます。わかれるといいんですね。

じつは、時々ぼくはぼくが一番うれしいことできる所は日本。かなしくてさびしくておこっている時、日本をかんがっても、どうかして僕は世界はひどくないと思ういって、たぶんある日僕は本当にしあわせになります。

ha

This is a footnote from the version of Twelfth Night (shakespeare) i'm reading

"since bonds disgraced them" - i.e. since it was required that a man's word be guaranteed by a bond (?)

so

Uh

So

Things took a turn. Ha. I fell onto the floor when i got back to my dorm room and laid there for a while and groaned and said some nonsense, then i got up and mumbled and said nonsense and talked to nobody and looked for my phone for like 15 minutes, because i knew somewhere in my clouded head i had to get up on time today and my phone doubles as an alarm, talked to myself some more, and then i realised

I DONT HAVE TO FEEL LIKE SHIT. wooo. god damn, i needed that. to fuckin RELAX. for once. let myself not be so concerned with everything. for a few hours. and i didnt feel like shit. it was incredible.

now i know why people do it.

and i said hi to her this morning, and used her name as well. it was incredible. maybe theres a chance. at this time yesterday i was ready to off myself, and today ... ride the glass elevator up up up up up upup till im past heaven past the stratosphere into the atmosphere, i wont even be near spheres, and i'm going to explode into a million happy pieces and be rained throughout the earth and people everywhere will ingest me somehow and i will become a part of the earth that i once thought i would be a part of, because i want to affect everybody, but there's only one of me.

Vonnegut says that every writer writes, consciously or not, to please one particular person.

How can a man be so smart.

Ka-


Boom.

write

I'm going to write because i'm really fucking pissed about whatever and better to take out on the keyboard than myself, you know?

So ya. Let's see. the world's an interesting place.

This new conservative judge being nominated, and all the democrats saying "well this well shift the balance of power to the right!" Well holy shit, good job for listening you idiots. Thats what they want to do. What, do you think that if the liberals were in power they would not shift the court to the left? Jesus christ. The republicans listen to that and they go "yeah, yeah, pretty much, that's what we're doing." Teriffic. Thats what THEY WANT TO DO. They "won" and that's why they get to make the decisions. Was anybody expecting Bush to nominate a lesbian vegetarian mulatto drum maker from a commune in new mexico? anyone? no? then stop making comments about how it's going to "shift the court to the right," like you need to go to yale law school to figure that one out, and expose these horrible human beings for what they are already. STOP COMPLAINING DEMOCRATS. Let me have at least one year in college with a decently intelligent president.

let's see, what else.

fuck facebook. i dont want to see her face ever again. every time i do i feel like i got punched in the stomach. i know, just don't use facebook anymore. If only i was that smart. when i see that picture i want to take the lamp on my desk and just throw it through the window. i dont know where all that comes from. im a pacifist i swear.

have you ever simultaneously loved and hated a book and loved and hated the main character? It makes sense, the argument. The guy is extremely willed to helping people and being a good and decent human being on one end, and on the other he has an unquenchable desire for sex of all kinds (sans men, i think). And because each of these tugs on the other he is...neurotically jewish. Yeah, i can see where that comes from. yeah so,

they key is looking at it from someone else's perspective - like any random person, actually probably 99.9999999999999999999999999999% of the worlds population this person means nothing. i can just join those ranks, this perosn means so much less to anything than it actually seems.

WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO????

so, loyal reader (there might be more than one), pull me out of the many-sided hole. feet first? no, head first, ive decided.


Time to fly.

vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSssssshhhhhhhh

i'm in the air. looking down at the people. they look like ants.

i feel like an ant being looked down upon by something. not god, nonono. by.....

myself.