a bitter, sharply abusive denunciation.

I've hit bottom and it feels alright. Society demands that I shower regularly, but they cannot force me to shave!

I have grown what could very well be the worst beard in the entire world. It is as much social experiment as it is laziness- how long will it take before someone tells me to shave it off?

It is an odd feeling, to be sure. It felt like summer the other day, which is cliche but accurate. I'm not really thinking about school. Basically the same thing I was thinking about during the schoolyear.

I guess I'm not really thinking about anything. I had a dream that I cart-jacked the ARC golf cart, and was later caught. In the dream, everyone was cool with it and even replaced the cart with a newer, faster model. They were terrified, though, that I would just steal and lose it again. So I had acceptance but not trust. Maybe there's something to that.

What is significant is that I'm now dreaming about hypothetical nonsense instead of the standard emo-nightmares. It would be refreshing if it wasn't so boring. And even then, I'm not bored. I'm content, with a blanked out mind. Which is a bit scary.

It occurs to me now (at work, at the gym, working with people) that I should at least have done something to my hair. Straightened, styled, combed... shit, anything. Hat? My hair is crap.

Moving on...

I have no clear direction in sight right now. Nowhere to live. I turned down free housing and food, because of my loyalties to my job. What will that loyalty cost me? And was it worth it? Time will tell. I have no regrets (hence the lengthy myspace pseudonyms) and I am sure my decisions will pay off long term. Ish.

Lease is up in July. Then home with the parents. Then--- where?

I also need to write a new song. A song takes inspiration. Inspiration takes heartbreak. Heartbreak takes a girl.

If you are a girl and you would like to break my heart//have a song written about you, please feel free to apply. Send all resumes to trueslide(at)gmail(dot)com and we'll talk. AIM= slidetrue

The Science of Sleep fucked me up badly. It was like seeing an incredibly accurate charicature of myself. I appreceate and I am impressed by how much it resembles me, but I am also offended by it. I am made self conscious by it.

I have always maintained that if my life is at least interesting, I am doing something right. Life as a movie. That is to say, if someone would like to watch the current plot of my life in a movie, things are fine, whether I am up or down. That places boredom at the bottom tier.

This movie, though, made me feel badly. To the point where I am not sure I would watch it again. I think it is crucial (cruxial?) that in the movie of my life, no one feels bad for the main character.

Heavy.

Final Fantasy XII is running and ruining my life. Sidequest after sidequest after sidequest. 70 hours in ten days. Do the math.


Jesus Christ, I need a hobby.


Girls, apply now.