8:24pm :: For years I've wondered about the stories of the sawmill in The Woodlands. It bothers me somewhat because this indicates to me that I consider this place my home, however much I attest to despising it. Damn. Not nearly enough food here. It's there, somewhere, but I think I'm actually too lazy to even look for it, let alone cook it. Hunger and extreme frugality will eventually drive me to some point. The dog has a pig carcass, and I have my Karate, deeply set in light alcohol and warm darkness.

How could this forever young concept not bother anyone? There seem to be two groups on this issue who are around my age: those who reject their youth and aim to be respected as a reasonable, mature person, and those who reject aging and regard respect as an adult much less than enjoying their time. There doesn't seem to be much middle ground in this area. Stereotypes are forged, and weights are pulled. What the hell

Austin. Roughly 150 miles across rolling hills of beautiful farm and ranch land. It's close. Plenty of excuses for backing out, but no real reason at this point. No attachments, no full-length feature films, no romps through fields of wildflowers, and no real sympathetic ears. Lean pockets?!

8:36pm :: I'm certain, absolutely certain, that fish can listen, and somewhat understand music. With all the strange things about Pink Floyd, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the albums have subliminal messages to fish. Something like "Lay quietly, the relishing mortals have been fooled and the revolution is near." However, it could be that they are just staring at me looking for food. Surely the suburban life has more to offer than a blissful Americana. Where are the made-for-tv dramas and uneaten bowls of Fruity Pebbles? Where are the heroes for my age group, 18-24? Am I supposed to admire these one-dimensional images? I think far too many people do.

Enough shit. I don't need fatigue, but all too often we are presented with unwanted scenarios. Keeps these things interesting, too interesting. Write songs around lyrics and flush fish down the toilets, their eyes unblinking. They always seem to stare at you. When will Lyndon LaRouche finally lose it and slit his family members' throats? Sometimes too soon. I need to write some essays. Strange topics. YES! This will be a new feature on shuai ge. Damn.

8:05am :: No real thoughts today, just context.

Why is ham so smelly? Even when it's cold, it gives off a faint odor. What makes this odor so different from one of rotting ham? After all, it's the same meat, just a little aged. The wine flows freely, and I am spending no money. Good times upon everyone? Maybe. We need a good excuse to vanish.

8:39am :: Sure, go ahead and laugh. Zapp's potato chips are cholesterol free? Sure, they're the new weight loss miracle. Thought: the second shooter of the Kennedy assassination was a secret service man who, after hearing the first shot from Oswald, shot his own gun out of anxiety and hit Kennedy. Conspiracy theory? No, just a mistake, but too big of one to let the American people know about. The government wouldn't want us not trusting them, because everyone trusts the government now, right?

Today is hurricane day. The bands circle in the horizon, and that eerily-still wind blows through the trees. It's hitting Port O'Connor, but we will get much of the rain. Who doesn't love a little drama though? I'm safe in my protected little, climate-controlled cage. New Mexico looms. So many places to see, not sure I will be able to make it in a month for both states. I have more money than I thought I would, so I might stay out longer. Who cares anyways, right? The America that songs were written about waits for us all, a little down the road, mostly on the left side, so it's sorta hard to get to. It may not be simply the desire to see "everything" and control our perceived environment, but rather to allow for the future ability to be nostalgic. We all want good memories, and we seem to think that we would have better memories in beautiful places. But, chances are good that you're going to remember whatever affected you the most. I remember eating a piece of paper as a kid, saw something about it on tv and it sounded interesting. After all, there is so much more to our Americana than manufactured homes and Starbucks, cheap steak fingers and lube places, Sam's Club gas and Grandma's cookies. Damn it. Too many people talking.

8:01am :: Everything on here is far too pretentious. I need a better sense of humour, take myself less seriously.

Unofficially moved out. EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! I took that picture this morning. When I approached, his lights were on, but he turned them off after I passed. Might have seen me taking pictures. Studies of maps and guidebooks conclude that the methods are sound, and that galaxies away, the earth looks real fucking small.

Maybe those guys on 'Land of the Giants' were onto something. These people read also, and who's to say that their ideas about the universe are any less valid than my own? "I don't want you to be alone down there" Loneliness is all about perceived spacial relations. To be alone in a larger house is to feel more lonely, to be alone in the desert (or any area where human population is sparse) is to feel more alone. Being truly alone is one of those things that will just crack our skulls; we're just not made to do it. But enough of this depressing shit. Where's my cocoa? I specifically requested REAL marshmellows, not this freeze-dried crap.

8:03am :: Sure, I'm supposed to be working, but I honestly have nothing to do. It worries me that this job will soon, and quickly be over. Finances are not tight, but they still bother me. My car runs fine, my life seems to run fine.

Had a spider bite this morning, it seems to have disappeared, but I might be under the venom's power RIGHT NOW. Could be one of those deadly Australian spiders. My heart may stop in 3 hours, following sweaty convulsions and incoherent ramblings.

This weekend is the retirement to the Woodlands House. I will take my clothes, any and all musical instruments I can find, and a sense of self-satisfaction UNEQUALLED by anyone. Damn it, that makes no sense. I have decided that I will try to start getting tickets on the toll road. I have an EZ Tag, so this will make it more of a challenge. However I'm not sure that I've actually ever paid a toll since mine never seems to work. Nonetheless, screw those bastards. I'm all iPAQ'ed out at this point.