Finally.

Why won’t you let me sleep?

So, things have been sauntering along quite nicely. I’m a bit strung out on caffeine and such, I had a sudden test and two papers due early on in the week. I hit it the night before and quit it cramming style. Next time, I’ll like uh I dunno prepare more. Yeah, right.

As soon as I begin to support the belief that my mother isn’t nuts, she does something to prove me totally wrong.

I finally made up a new money management plan for myself. According to many very complex and intricate economic factors, I should be able to get a 6-month lease on a 1-bedroom (or efficiency) in at max 3 months. At least, that’s what I’m shooting for. No more roommates, it’s time I tried my luck at making this crap work on my own. I really learned some very valuable lessons about relying on other people to hold up their end of bargains this year. Meaning, you can’t. You can’t rely on anyone but God and yourself. And maybe your parents until they die. But that’s it. Alright, maybe one or two very good friends. My argument is going down in flames now. But seriously, if I can’t take care of myself successfully, how do I expect to take care of anyone else in the future, supposing I’m somehow given the opportunity to?

I have this one sideburn that just freaks out. I’m not particularly looking forward to writing string parts tonight but I’m gonna.

Update: I did successfully return the deodorant.

Oh yer: The hospital “people” called and it turns out I’m a compatible kidney donor for Erin! I’m so thrilled, praise the living God. I go in late this week for uber-med-tests and other such nonsense like meeting the transplant surgeon. I’ll most likely be laid out in late-August. Come visit me in the hospital, dudes. And like, bring me some books.

Here’s is the defining moment where everything turned around for me.

I had just stepped out of the shower, choked with steam, dried off a bit, feeling refreshed. I reach for the deodorant I’d just bought, take out the little plastic “guard” and apply it…only to be welcomed by the sweet, luscious scent of a 17-year old cheerleader getting ready for a big night out with a boy.

I have no idea how this happened, but somehow in the store I reached for the masculine-smelling Ban deodorant (that I had JUST SMELL-TESTED) but ended up buying, taking home, unpackaging and using (only once) something called Sweet Surrender.

Needless to say, I’m returning it. I did, however, spend a little time caressing myself and pretending I was with a hot chick. Maybe I should keep it.

Note to girls: buy this deodorant.

What an interesting assortment of goo-filled days. Goo. Let me just wash my hands of this please. Or I dunno. Not of this, but that, you know?

A large part of me is fulfilled by helping others. I’m not claiming to be a saint, or anything more than a dirty little human puppet filled with selfish desires and destructive bents. But I’ve been redeemed and filled with Love, and I find great joy in sharing that with others. God has given me the ability to Love, and I feel it is my duty to not ignore the gift. I love when I can visually see God working in people’s lives. It is awesome and overpowering. It makes you want to drop to your knees and scream “Hosana!” and cry and cry. And tremble. And stuff. I know people who the Lord seeks. His finger is upon their hearts. Soon they will have no choice but to taste Him.

I believe you’ve made it. I am so proud of you. I’m not sure I have the capacity to relay the significance of late events. Their consequences will stretch out like trendrils into the fabric of space/time and we will ride their wakes and trails. Comets aflame. Jets cleaving sky. May God and His angels protect you and guard you against attacks of the enemy. May he have no power over you, your psyche, your health, heart or mind in Jesus name. I pray that you are supported and guided by His hand. That your heart brims with love and joy, and that you are given eyes to see and ears to hear.

Sometimes it’s like screaming down a black hole. But soundless. Stars stop whizzing by. You reach the singularity. You wonder: How did I come to be at these places? Where do I move to? Ground crumbles beneath you into nothing. What now? Apocalypse? How many nails will it take to bury idealism? Dreams are balloons. Life is darts. Chase the bus. Chase the subway car. Chase the cab driver. Run until heart explodes into colors. Thick, greasy colors drip down the screen. They cover the audience. They mingle and wash the frozen place. Stuck in a moment congealed in feeling – sealed with a kiss / burned at the stake. My organs tear like holy shrouds. Streams of blood from my holes mingle with other fluids.

Aren’t you aware that your just chasing a phantom, man? What do you mean? I mean, it ain’t got no substance, man. It ain’t real. But it was right here in front of me, only moments ago. Nah man, you’re drunk. Maybe you’re fucked up. You’re certainly not right, in the head. I’m not? How did I get like this? You probably gave life too much credit, kid. It happened to me. And look at me now. I’m just barely climbing out of my own shit-pile. Burning piles of shit. That’s all this place has to offer. I don’t get it. Why does that whole notion seem so…unnatural? You’re wired to live, kid. It’s what you soul strives for. Freedom. Happiness. Love. Don’t get caught up in the fantasy world. Sure sometimes things collide. Sometimes you get to be in a fairy tale. But that stuff never lasts. It goes bad. It rots away like old film. It disintegrates like old tapes. You keep on playing them, you get back less every time. I think it realizes you weren’t the one it was looking for all along. Wow. I never thought of it like that before. What should I hope for? What do I strive for? What is worth effort? I dunno, kid. I’ve spent all these years trying to figure that out. I suppose one of these days I’ll reach into a pile of shit and find gold. Then what will you do? I’ll die.