In the latest thinkings, I've sort of been at a loss. I don't know what I want anymore, or even where one should look, for that lack of direction has taken on a most serious tone. This is not to say that I am in dire need of direction and advices, but moreso that I need a little time to thinks, spin, and point. Walk, and claw. The clawing is the best part.

It is times like this that I like to write the most. I stop caring about rules of language and law and start looking for words that sound solid in my mind. I cannot condone my lack of caring for the bylaws of language, but sometimes is just feels better to let some things slide. It's like driving 26 in a 25 at 3 in the morning.

But to try and focus this thing in on something, I think the sun would be a most welcomed guest. The sun, with its rays of love and burning, watching over us and yet we cannot look back for too long, or else we may never look again. It is loved and unapproachable, perfectly distinct, not for us mortals, nor for gods. It is just not us.

But without that molten orb of lovehate we cannot go about our anything. We cannot claw, we cannot thrive. We cannot make opinions on things that do not matter, and carry our bias to our untimely, sunfree, graves. We need its light and heat and energry and everything else that that song tells us we do.

The sun, though immensely important, does not matter to us. We do not care that it is always watching, that its touch is ancient and incomprehensible. We do not care unless it hurts us or stops.

If the sun were to stop, it would be odd. We would be behind the game by so many steps, yet we would not know. Somewhere, an alien who could tell the sun had died would be laughing at us, trying to get a shot of all of humanity at the exact moment when the sunlight ends. It would be akin to opening a trick can of nuts. Suddenly, all of humanity would go agape, and, jaws slackened, we would decend into eternal darkness.

That is, until someone turns on a light. Then we would freeze. Frozen fish around the world would laugh at this fact, however, they're frozen. After the great snowball war over the remaining resources, we would die out and be replaced hopefully by snowmen, who are more willing to cooperate and appreciate things for what they are, and not how they hurt them. The snowmen would pass on legends of the evil sun and how its rays drove a glorious species to madness, destruction, and finally extinction. For all their bluster though, the snowmen would not be able to smell, as carrots had by then been missing from the frozen orb of earth for many generations.

Concluding this ramble, I would like to say that Floralia was very fun, and while the beer and acid may have flowed like wine, thankfully, no one did anything stupid. No mom, I did not do any acid. I don't do that. You know me better than that. Come on. It was fun though, and I think the best one I've had. Also, It's nice to have a little colour on my arms, and fire on my nose.

Until I see you in Valhalla, NY

-CCM