Boy, howdy, do I. What on EARTH do I want to be when I grow up? I'm seriously open to suggestions; those of you that know me, those who feel they do, and those who don't at all. I have to finish out Cornell in a bit; where to from there?
"Thank heavens I was there! Otherwise, Quebec would have seperated from Canada!"
Bless you, last week's Ripping Friends. That was probably the funniest line to ever grace Saturday Morning in a looooong time. Didn't see this week's, though; that was just something left over on my tape recorder from my visit to see Becca.
"I hope there's a sign; I hope there's a sign, and I hope I can read it right."
That and the subject line to this post (go ahead, look up; I know you didn't read it) are from the song in my current music. Pisser. One of my favoritest "theme songs." It seems I've had a lifelong headcold, alright. Thank you, Mothers, for writing such good music. Pisser. It ties in well with the next thought on my tape recorder:
"I'd like to go back in time and kill Jesus Christ; outside of the whole martyrdom thing, and see if that didn't just ruin Christianity's whole parade."
It'd be like: "Praise Jesus!" "Why? It's not like he died for my sins or something. He got stabbed in a back alley in the ghettos of Jerusalem." Hee.
Looking for a center in my life and just why I am why I am.
Turn the lights out and leave me alone.
Raspberry in my hand; you feel alright, but I don't know if I am.
If I told the King of Spain I knew of riches in a far-off land, I wonder if he would give me a sturdy ship and thirty men. I'm in the mood for some serious Mysterious Cities of Gold-style sailing. I want to visit obscure desert islands in the pacific and say hi to the natives. I might even bring some stuff back with me. Or people. This is plan B, in case Project Deus Ex Machina: LoLo's Millionaire, fails.
"I can't change what I am right now, but I'll be fine in the next life."
Yeah, I've spent a lot of idle time thinking about random things. I've got a wanderlust; something I know at least Jon will understand. I don't want to go anywhere in particular; quite the opposite. The point of the journey is not to arrive. I want to stare out car windows for hours. I want to feel the salt kiss of sea air for miles around me. I want to see waterspouts and whale migrations. I want to hunt game and cook it. I want to run black sand through my toes and see a volcanic eruption. I want to learn tribal remedies. I want to give piggy-back rides to pygmies and harvest sugar cane. I want to craft a crude hut. I want to start a fire with my wits.
I want to do a lot of things. I want to do many of them by myself, but not alone. Am I a loner? I don't know. I like to go off and do things my own way and disappear for a day, but I always come home. I need a lap to curl up in; I need hands to soothe tired muscles, and ears to absorb tales of where I've been, what I've seen, and how I've seen it.
when the moment dies
the spark still flies
reflected in another pair of eyes.
That's Chain Lightning; a song about how beauty is magnified when shared. I want to share it. I wanna see it when you find out what comets stars and moons are all about.
I wanna see their
faces turn to backs of heads and slowly get smaller.
I want to cut a bevel, right down to the cellular level. I want to get inside God and start pulling wires. I want...
I don't want to go eat dinner. It's coming back here with me. I have people to talk to, now that AIM is working and my registry isn't corrupted.
"It gets so lonely, y'know? Weeks and months alone, chasing sleep and space junk, and the dying stars I've known and loved."