The chair I sit in at my computer desk must be coated with quasi, because I swear that I have the most poignant and sober-minded thoughts when not seated in it. Recited poetically by the hybrid voiceover man of Patrick Stewart and Winnie the Pooh, the transition seemingly spasticates them both.
"The world wasn't ready for his nu-grandad ways, dammit" -- Stevie Wonder
It is now time to move on.
The extraction of romanticism from the deeper levels of my being is now complete. This LJ is utterly pointless
; an agenda-less, radial-blurred, rambling smorgasbord of post-ironic whats and its. I despise it. And I despise even more that I've carried it on this long simply on the notion that a lifetime-maintained journal is somehow a glorious feat.
It is ...not.
Today, at work, I had the most beneficial progression of thought - great epiphanies struck my cerebrum, much was realized and understood.
And now I feel extremely 26 years old.
Consequently, I will be removing this journal. I will destroy this embarrassing abomination, and vow never to repeat such a mistake again. From this day on - when I write - I write with blast goggles on.
Serious, valuable commentary, profitable recording and creative endeavor - no more willysnatcher's delight.
As for the rest: (my life etc) the last three years has been a diabolical fuck-up. I realize now that a normal life is quite beyond me - I will always be on the kaleidoscopic-outside looking in. A serial pipe dreamer I may be - but in regards to love, pipe smoker
seems far more apt.
I don't know what happens next: All my life I've always been able to classify who and what I am, where I am heading - I've been able to summarize and define myself. But not anymore.
Disconcerting? Ya, a little.
But I shall continue as always, onward and upward, spasming my way through thick and thin. Drakotah MK II never gives in. Drakotah MK II loves donut longtime.
And that my friends is where I shall end it.
In parallel dimensions, I await you... mw-ha-ha.