The world is very strange.

Since it is 2014 and I am no longer attaching myself to anything, chemical, idea, or individual, I will probably be doing a fuck ton of writing.  And very well may break through if I keep my head high and my ego low.

There are two colors in my head. Two colors.  What was that you tried to say? Tried to say?  Tried to saaaayyyyyyyy?

Back in high school I played a rusty trombone in the marching band.  It was rad my freshman year, I might still be playing had those band instructors stuck around.  It was at band camp when a certain lady caught my attention.  She was a mystery to me in every way, and she continues to be to this very day.

I think maybe I fell in love with her then, but knowing full well that she would crush me under her foot, I made the rational decision and decided to let myself go out with a Harvard graduate, who is doing quite well for herself these days.

Its funny how the human heart can love so many things.  And the more love you have in your heart, the more your heart is exposed to the harsh maelstrom of humanity.  I think if my heart were a couple sizes smaller, I would be happy.

You thought I would start complaining again there, didn't you?  Notice I said I am not happy, but it didn't come out as complaining.  It came out as a fact.  There are laws of nature we do not understand. One law is that some people are not ever going to experience happiness.  Some people aren't able to be happy, others simply choose not to be happy.  It isn't always a cut and dry choice.

Some 15 odd years later I happened to run into that girl again.  I was hit by a semi truck on that day and I have been stuck under the axle and dragged along the pavement ever since.

This month I will be publishing another novel.  No body will buy it, and I will have to do slave labor on the side.  And the strangest thing is this...I will write yet another book that nobody will purchase after that.

Since I can't be happy, a nice consolation is knowing my purpose in life....and that is this: to write everything that nobody else is able or willing to write.

I am going to get back to it now, and maybe I will sleep tonight but maybe not.  I am a very strange creature, you could say.  If I do sleep, I will probably drift into painful REM sleep, which is an unfortunate side effect of sobriety.  This is the music I was listening to when I was in band camp, so very long ago.  It is not by coincidence that I chose the album Kurt Cobain listened to when he killed himself for good.  I hate all of you motherfuckers.