It feels at times that I'm out on sojourn for good running parallel to nothing, and everything keeps moving, including me, but goes nowhere. I'm forever temporary, moving. And it so happens that my track runs along many and we merge, almost all by choosing. These are the things that pass my time, waste my time- these near fictions that I keep my mind busy with.

All the nothing sports that take my time and beat my heart to their rhythm. The nothing jobs and nothing fancies in nothing towns. The something people, I don't know what, but something. Like a dream with meaning and you don't know why, you just know that it meant more than just a phantom, fantasy. It's got to, it's all we got.

I forget them too when they pass. The something people. Isn't that sad, I've forgotten everyone but one... and she too is almost gone. I pretend the rest. What does that say about me, what does that say about us? Am I heartless, feckless, cooling? Am I any representative for something more, or does my track run somewhere astray? Not unique, reckless and runaway.

It's the passage of time. Maddening if you pay attention. The where, what, and especially the why that wrecks the brick that builds. I get drugs. That makes sense. I don't get people that don't get drugs. And more, I don't get those that don't get people that get drugs. Where did they come from? Happy on this narrow plane called life and living, this sliver called love, and this one called communication. Good God what are we doing? Scraping inch by inch for even the scantest gain.

Having to so brutally earn not having the sonofabitch named John McCain as our president. There's an example from hell. Every small gain so dearly fought to quickly slip with too high expectations, the facts, and a pat on the back as oil drops below $70 a barrel and life returns to normal. Nowhere. That's where we're going. A massive delusion. And so I watch baseball, football, shit whatever damn sporting event is on, unless it be hockey (though I tried) or that stomach-turning ultimate animal fighting of men and women in great big cages. What is that? Give me a gun, put them down.

Beyond all the memory of this and that, those beautiful landscapes out there... God there's so many of them. And the faces with me there, they're nice too. Beyond all that, I miss me. I always wanted to keep myself right. Right in the head, whatever. Right in the spirit, in the heart. It's hard isn't it? With all the lying. Keeping it straight, face-forward, hands and arms, and heart beating right.