I'm moving to Israel very soon. In fact, I'm leaving in exactly two weeks. What wonders may yet behold my eyes remain fastened into the twisting fabric of future devellopments.

Good thing I'm moving, too, since I just quit one of my jobs with an amazing performance of uncaring pseudo-maturity. I can still see myself walking to my boss, triumphant on the wings of self-importance, telling him of my departure from his enterprise...almost like breaking an unimpassionned relationship. The truth, however, is that aside from the money I've set aside for m studies, I'm nearly broke. Also, like a waking, recurring nightmare, the knowledge that my career choices teeter on the edge of a bowl. A great bowl itself leaning into a precipice, which drops thousands of miles into a great running river full of decaying placenta.

Sorry for the distasteful placenta rant.

Erupted the Shadows, Paris

Thin whispers begrudgingly reproach our life spent;
Past arranged, young blue ladies on the banks running.
Relentlessly gathering folds of life's garment
Bitterness on the lips regret the escape, dreading.

Stoic, significance lost as mind changes hand,
Lovelorn and battered from a crashing existence.
Conspiratorial epiphanies clatter and
The shining example of man dies in silence.

A grostesque harmony clings to glories unknown,
The patient watch resonating sounds forgotten.
Car-beetle shine, the wind across the flagstones blown
The faintest image of a true life awoken.

I'm deathly tired of blaming my problems on society, the world, my parents, my teachers, my computer, my toaster, my oven, my fridge, my car and myself. I'm tired of having to blame.

Thespian Seacoast

Se réveiller avec la conscience imprégné, où gronde, décharné, l'insignifiance d'un monde cruellement ordinaire. Where no one else will ever be.