Tonight I could go out and rage. Hopefully Damian will call soon to tell me he just wants to hang low too. Smoke pot, play video games, order pizza. He'll probably call from the bar he's hanging at. And then I'll go. Thinking I might find that thing I'm looking for.

I have to really resist the urge to not give up. I'm not talking about killing myself. Not that I still don't have suicide fantasies, but it hasn't been a serious consideration since high school. Although, I don't believe in gods, afterlives, spiritual mumbo jumbo, and if life was ever too fucked up (like paralization or something along those lines) I would do it in a heartbeat. I don't think human life is a gift and/or precious. I want to keep this life going for as long as I can, pending medical attrocities, but I ain't a fucking martyr.

I want to give up on social responsibility. Become a wandering bum. Live off what I find. No bills. No punching a clock. No apartment full of stuff to protect and keep up. Never planting my flag anywhere permanent. Somewhere out of country. Canada maybe. Amsterdam better. Southern Asia Thailand, Vietnam, Korea.

So where's the funny guy now, everybody wants to know. Where's the guy that cheers me up. Why aren't you saying or doing something that makes me feel better. How come your not partying. Your the man who has twelve drinks and acts better than the punks who drink three. Where's the bong meister, with all his funny voices, and weird concepts. Where's the cute boy who flirts, and kisses, and drives the women wild. Why aren't you fucking around you pussy hound. Where's the big lovable nerd that brightens our worthless lives. He's put away. Leave him alone. He doesn't want to deal with you right now. Cause he's ugly, sick, scattered, aimless, and no good to anyone.