5:36

I feel like it has been 5:36 for the last 15 minutes.

iPhone Password Lock.

I feel like my quality of life has significantly improved since I removed my iPhone's password lock.

Stay Gold.

Nothing good lasts forever but I think I'm alright.

Internet Porn.

Sarah got home from her boyfriend's funeral.  She had just talked to his mother, who said that she was going to pick up his belongings from her apartment this evening.  Sarah turned on his laptop and began searching the hard drive for all of his porn.  She wanted to delete all of it so that his mom would never find it.  She found his stash hidden in a folder titled, "The Stooges - Fun House."  She deleted the folder and his firefox browser history.  Sarah turned off the laptop, lit up a cigarette and smoked it by the window, waiting for her to arrive.

Facebook Friends.

Facebook notified Sam of his friends' upcoming birthdays.  One of them had actually been dead for two years.  Sam thought this seemed ironic and questioned, whether he should unfriend people on Facebook if they were actually dead.  He had several  friends on Facebook that were dead.  Sara had died from eating disorders two years ago, David killed himself back in third year and Roy had died a few months ago in a motorcycle accident.  Sam didn't hesitate about unfriending Roy.  He didn't really know him that well.

Animal Farm.

No, sorry. I was mistaken.

It was the pigs that screamed and the cows that cried.

Not the other way around.

Alcohol.

Alcohol fueled productivity.

I feel like it's a time honoured tradition for writers?

Eye Contact.

Sometimes I realize that I've spent an entire afternoon with someone without even looking at their face.

Ontology.

He looked God sternly in the eyes and said, "Yo, what's the deal?"

Faulkner.

"The dark world seemed to lie stricken beneath the cold moon and the lidless stars."

Dublin St.

It’s 4:27 AM and Sam is lying in bed, unable to fall asleep.  He is gazing through his window, into the distance and is fixating on the street light across from his window.  He watches intently, focusing on the flicker that occurs every seven seconds or so.  Each time the street light flickers, he restarts his count.  Several hours have passed since he has begun this nightly ritual and it seems that for tonight, any hope for sleep is distant.  He sits up, slouched over and is still for several moments as he stares back out the window. 

Lennox-Addington.

Paranoid hallucinations of follicle infesting parasites.

Teenagers.

Who the fuck are these teenagers who have accomplished more in their short lives than I probably will in my entire lifetime. 

Uncertainty.

Nothing is certain but death.

Grimes.

The unusually warm spring weather has subsided and the cold winds have returned, blistering my face with a numbing chill as I ride my bike down unlevel concrete roads.

It's not that I don't have aspirations in life.  I'm filled with them.  They just don't involve a career or being 'successful.'

Transcendental Moments.

Black metal, solidarity in existential crisis and relationships with cats.

NO GODS, NO MASTERS

no parents.

So,

What's your story?

Emmanual Levinas, Marina Abramović and 'Eye Fucking.'

I want to write this.
I can't stay focused.
It's 8:22AM.
I haven't fallen asleep yet.
At least I cleaned my room.

Uneccessary Commas

Unnecessary, commas.
Un,necessary commas.
Unnecessary com,mas.
Unneces,sary commas.
Unne,cessary commas.
Unnecessary commas,

Basket Sculptures.

I can't remember names.  I don't see people's faces.  All you are, is just an idea.

Unedited Facebook Status Updates.

I'm contemplating reviving this blog by following the feedback from Facebook status updates I plan to write without any self-censorship or self-restraint.  Its been a while since this blog has been active.  Looking back through it, I feel embarrassed with it's climate of neurosis.  I've even deleted several posts.  To be fair, pretty much all of these blog posts were created amidst some sort of anxiety filled insomniac state.  Hell, it's 6:07 AM right now, my apartment is slumbering in deep sleep.  Even the cat is sleeping.  The air is still, the city is silent and all that is left is the clatter of my fingers typing and the music pulsing through my headphones.