"I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and the songs I'd been pickin'
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playin' with a can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone's fryin' chicken
And it took me back to somethin'
That I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way."

The loss of creativity is something to be lamented to the greatest degree. Something I just realized while sitting here, feeling really sad for no reason at all, other than that I was intending to stay up all night to work, but I aborted that mission. I am now coming down off the caffeine, and thus feeling low. Psychological effects of chemical dependance.

Love would be nice. That would be very nice, but is it really love that I am looking for? Is it just having someone there, a body of some sort? Who can really tell until one is actually living the situation, the immediateness of company tells all. Ideas are nice to chase, but reality always creeps in. Something must be done to make visions real, and something should be done, otherwise the effort is wasted, any effort wasted, it all wasted.

Movement is needed. Kinetic energy was always my favorite, thanks to a cajun man named Gambit. Comics are funny like that, but I also have a penchant for potential energy. It's more dangerous. Potential energy to me is the bowling ball about to fall off of the shelf onto your head. All that energy is just waiting to be unleashed, but it's not going anywhere. Yet. The yet is the biggest factor of them all. When that energy is released, there is trouble, but it is in check.

Potential energy is temper.

But what is it all.

I spoke to Kyle for a while today, randomly coming across him in the Blackstone common room. Always liked him. Great sense of humour on that kid, very easy going, and willing to take that step to the absurd with me. Never really had issue with him in the slightest regard. He's a kid I don't know overly overly well, yet can joke about very freely with. He's tall and goofy, but just awesome on all fronts I can think of.

Fetching, isn't he?

I work at the coffee grounds on thursday nights. I am working with Rachel, who is a million tons of fun to hang with. Just so much energy there. She's just a kick to hang with. Very open, chill, and I get to make coffee when she's around. Not that the two are overly related, but I love coffee and the construction of drinks relating to that magical bean. Mmmm.

Living across the street makes me feel very detatched from campus activities, and I think that it's going to hurt some friendships I've had for a long time. I find that people aren't as open as they once were to me. Oh well. Things change. Entropy, you know?

By the way, I love being morbid. Life's a lot funnier when you can laugh at it all. Keep harping on this point, but really I love it. The morbidity, that is. It's not even morbidity, it's the absurdity of life. I live that word. I LOVE the absurd. The stranger things are, the better. If you can laugh at the worst of it, you can get through it all.

By the way, I hate "art fag" types. Not that they are gay, but that's the 80s terminology for the kids. "Indylectuals" is more modern. These are the kids that are all about looking distressed over nothing. THey are about an image. Constructed identity, I say. You can look like anything you want to, and still feel the same way about the world. I dress the way I want and I act the way I want to act, but damnit, there are these kids that just have to look all annoyed and pissed all the time. Then they act all smart. Man, I'm smart enough, but I don't go rubbing it in. We've all read some Marx man, but you don't hear me quoting Das Kapital all the time. It's just a general annoyance with some people. You don't need to go out of your way to be interesting, just be yourself. Stop dressing like everyone else and do something that is REALLY artistic. You know what I'm talking about...none of this "oh life is hard shit"...do something that evokes an emotion. You can talk about how hard life is, but do it well.

(not even sure where that rant came from, but I know that it applies to all sorts, myself included. Perhaps it is some sort of self hating thing or something, but whatever. It's too early in the morn for this shite. If you are offended by this thing, talk to me.)

You can have a play about the lack of food in the world, the hunger in Africa, America, everywhere. You can be desperate and down, but in the end you'll reach more people by having someone getting hit in the face with a pie. The pie gag will appeal to more people, but you can layer it with meaning.

"Well I shot a man in Reno,
just to watch him die.
When I hear that whistle blowing,
I hang my head and cry"

I hope they buried Johnny Cash in black.

-ccm

(lyric by Johnny Cash, the first, "Sunday Morning Coming Down" is honestly one of the sweetest, saddest songs ever)