Timestamp- The Point of No Return

With two institutions and four semesters in, there will be no turning back after today. There is no more time find myself or see the world. Of course, I never needed to do either. I have seen enough of the world to know where to be, and my astounding self-absorption never let me lose myself.

Lately I have been wondering if I even have a self.

That last sentence may sound strange to western ears, but it is a pretty common motif elsewhere. Current research seems to indicate that free-will is just a comforting illusion used to rationalize predetermined choices. If that is the case, perhaps I am just a body. Perhaps the “I” in the last sentence was just a schema fashioned by the world to attribute consciousness in a useful organism. Notable humans who have expressed non-self tend to exhibit the most moral actions. Perhaps the universe would be better off if this self-concept inside my body did not exist. Perhaps…


Six finals in half as many days have left me pretty fried. (There I go with a “me”s and “I”s again.) I’ve gotten eight hours of sleep in the last 72. Last night I awoke at 3AM due to an uncertain cause. Exactly two minutes later, I realized that I had a wet dream. It was not any wet dream through; it was if a bucket of come spilled in my bed. I’m the middle of a dry spell. (Obviously, since I had a bucket’s worth of pent-up sperm.) This body needs more sex.

Outside, it’s raining like a scream. I was walking to a final this morning while the clouds were still holding on to their treasures. The moisture in the air was palpable, tangible, an inevitable sign. The first drop landed on my forehead. It was huge, an obese raindrop. Then the rest came, as the clouds released everything they had worked for, giving rain away like homeless billionaires. A girl shrieked for attention, a few others ran for cover, many continued to walk blindly towards the next thing and the next thing and the next. I stopped, took a break, and embraced the tiny gifts…


So I guess I have reached the point of no return. If I go forward, I have simply put too much effort to change my ways. If I turn back, it has to be today, right now, this instant. I sit on the porch, watching the rain fall.

Last night-

I had a dream about my long-dead grandfather. It wasn't sappy or unsettling. We didn't even talk to eachother that much. He kept on trying to take over the world with the help of his half dinosaur/half human hench-men.

A Series of Unrelated Observations

The water from the pump is as yellow as the grass surrounding me. The chicken in the rotisserie hiccups as gas escapes its succulent, lifeless corpse. Life is a collection of unrelated observations. It may appear to have thematic significance, however, that is simply the result of our attempts to attach meaning to meaningless information.

I had a dream last night in which I suffered a case of mistaken identity. The traveling mime troupe explains that it is I who has mistaken my identity. One of the silent performers turns out to be Justin, and I am a nameless stand-in. I apologize for any inconvenience and sit down, attempting to remember my correct identity. Eventually I give up and create a new one, but it turns out that the new identity is also taken by a mime.

Confused, I glance at the world surrounding me and observe that I am in a warehouse as large as a major metropolitan mall. It is crammed with a mixture of gray tubes and stairs, all angles, asymmetry, and alliteration. There is a community on the floor that I am sitting on that is substantial enough to sustain a mime troupe. Also, a village of upside-down people dwells directly under the ceiling, in direct violation of gravitational laws. The hot chick from work resides up there. The mime beside me says that everyone is happier up there, but I don’t believe him. His skewed perception identifies smiles when in fact all they do is frown.

I find myself at Wal-mart in the wee hours of the morning often this week. The consumerism distracts my insomnia. I stare at the daunting aisle of orange juices. Several fruit fusions are available, as well as tangy original. The tangy original is tangier than the original I remember and the fusions are interspecies anomalies that call themselves orange juice. There is also a reduced sugar variety. I grow nostalgic for the mid-nineties. What ever happened to the sugar-fortified Sunny-D I remember from my childhood? I settle on mango.