sense of self? i'd say, sensation. i'm not "stupid" but my quests for essential truth in experience have gone a long way in simplifying my approach to this process of eventual Ending. sensation is of at least penultimate importance, and just being here writing this for purposes mysterious to me violates my Ideal; that being, real life happens where sensation is more comprehensive than electronic impulse meeting the eye creating a circuit through fingertaps claiming ideation. i make up words, and i get off on explaining myself - but only on a mental level, which just doesn't do it for me. and yet here i am.

i am most likely in this maze of motion to trust my senses, and instincts. a person is only real to me if they smell like i could eat 'em, have a voice that melts me, and look like the most goddamn beautiful thing i've ever seen. i suppose my goal in life is to track down this person and let the primal pulse do it's thing. but my primal pulse finds beauty in so many places i'm at a raging sort of standstill, totally at a loss for how to approach the raw emotional nature of human love. we be fucking COMPLICATED monkeys.

i'm into some really diverse worlds, so pinning it all down looks like a donkey with 12 tails and a dart that little jane found in daddy's office smeared with rainbow frosting. (writing makes me feel more interesting than i do otherwise, cause i get to make myself up.) i like to travel, but i'm broke. i like to sing, but i'm scared of being heard. i believe in sovereign being but feel/like maybe i shouldn't talk about my feelings. i mean i'm kinda weird about neurotic contradiction, and i'm working on it.

I DIG MUSIC like nobody's business, whatever the fuck that means. i get off on doing acid and living the vibes, no joke. i think life should be more about riding bikes and climbing trees than sitting in chairs and staring at screens. (and yet here i am.) i'm a purist, with the things that matter. i don't wanna be untrue or unreal...i've sensed, in my various misadventures, that there are ways to live that i find every excuse not to have the courage to pursue. oops. hi, i feel like a failure. boo hoo.

i like honey bees. dancing. the soft sweet parts of grass. i like love, but am i really looking for a mate? if i am, i don't think this is the place.

i'm jaded about education, i'm in a phase of unlearning the oppressive parts of "training". i'm still learning how to breathe and walk and talk and speak like i'm really alive, not some robot made to carry out the cliche of someone else's dream. i get it.

i'm building up the energy of momentum to stand on my own two feet, so to speak. i'm aiming for SIMPLE JOB, COZY SPACE, GOOD FOOD. i like the high life, i admit, but can't reconcile my hate for civilization and resistance to soul-sucking work with my love of spending money frivolously, so at present, goddamn. what the fuck AM i doing with my life?

i drink coffee because this city is bereft of public hang-out space, and i don't go to school. i have mostly musician friends, because they're all about living expression and the tribal beat. i believe this kind of social cohesion to be vital, the best way to purge the primal pain...to be HONEST, which is IMPORTANT, i BELIEVE the best thing to do is get together and let it all out. i believe in total honesty but find it terrifying in practice. praxis makes perfect. i will reference animal collective here.

it seems more and more like people, and i mean "adults", are just these dissatisfied, uncomfortable, perverted versions of their former selves, slaving away for lives they've been programmed to struggle for. the price of growing up is losing freedom and spontaneity, and that's just fucking sad. i mean you choose your price, i don't mean to get preachy philosophical...call me a hippy if you want, i'm a fan of the inner child, ecstatic bliss, and free expression. what i'm doing with my life is finding a balance between cultivating the beauty, and surviving the system.

hiding my talents. withholding information. (believe it or not.) stressing on the negatives, not getting too worried about it. paradox, perhaps, living in irony. cooking to my own tastes. writing till 6am when i feel dissatisfied with my life. somehow managing to never really get involved. putting together a wicked weird outfit. "mystery", cryptic bullshit. letting people do/make/say/think whatever they fuck they want. listening. appreciating. the tiniest things.

likely that wicked weird outfit i'm wearing, or the length of my fingernails. soon after, it's how little i speak. maybe it's the sweet people i'm with. i don't know, i'm not other people.

i do read when i need to fill my alone time with word thought, and i dig tom robbins in a way that seems in keeping with the spiel i've spelt.

i've watched a lot of movies but can't really stand them anymore, i will shrug here. shrug.

music is my main man, radiohead, lately the talking heads, local heroes azeda booth, recent live experiences of OUTSTANDING caliber bands grizzly bear and cocorosie. joanna newsom is darling. i could gush forever about it all, but let's move on shall we?

food is important to live, and the kind of food is important to me. i'm crazy about organics cause it just makes sense. rawr. fuck wheat, fuck dairy, fuck preservatives, fuck processing, fuck everything but the real shit. i feel persecuted already for being so stoked on shit that grows from the earth. i like the earth. i trust it. life likes it here. i like to live.

ahhh wow, let's assume food, air, water, shelter from the frigid fucking elements, love, and...more love.

forgive me, love has become synonymous with life for me lately.

how i should be making the most of my time here, being happier than i feel, suspecting that happiness is a mirage, and experience and the journey is IT. i think about how, really, mating for babies is the only way to carry on the consciousness and countering that possibility with speculation about spiritual practice of disconnecting consciousness from physical experience and how fascinating these seemingly opposite extremes are and wondering if it's possible to integrate the two or if it's just muddy mental mapping that makes them seem different and how i shouldn't be thinking, i should be doing something productive or maybe i should just be asleep cause tomorrow something important might happen and my eyes hurt cause genetics and technology have given me extra lenses in order to see but it makes life weird and kind of inconvenient so what'll it be, surgery or suicide? that seems extreme. thoughtstream leap to something more pleasant, ahhh, the beautiful people. the beautiful people. moving on.

maybe at a party, maybe at a show, maybe drinking coffee, maybe at home avoiding all these options because i don't know why i'm here.

i think i've said enough.

you feel like it.