Every Time My Brain Parks The Car

I Think There's A Future Where The Web And Print Coexist And They Each Do Things Uniquely And Complement Each Other, And We Have What Could Be The Ultimate And Best-yet Array Of Journalistic Venues.

This Boy Thinks I Am Not Of His Species, That I Am Some Other Kind Of Creature, One That Can Be Crushed Under The Weight Of A Phone Book. The Pain Is Not Great, But The Symbolism Is Disagreeable.

My Head Was A Condemned Church With A Ceiling Of Bats, But I Swung From This Dark Mood To Euphoria When I Thought About Leaving.

There's Nothing To Be Gained From Passive Observance, The Simple Documenting Of Conditions, Because, At Its Core, It Sets A Bad Example. Every Time Something Is Observed And Not Fixed, Or When One Has A Chance To Give In Some Way And Does Not, There Is A Lie Being Told, The Same Lie We All Know By Heart But Which Needn't Be Reiterated.

Three-dimensional Results Are Important To Me. I Did Once Spend Some Time Just Writing, And Floating Around, And I Lost My Mind A Little Bit. I Wasn't So Good At That.