Thanks to the handful of people who have read what I've posted here. Oh, and everyone who has commented tends to be a better writer/human being than myself, and you/they deserve credit/kudos for that. w/e.
So anyways. I don't do much here because I've been taking a break from the internet.
My social life is out of control. I am 'busy' for the first time in my life, whatever that means. I have ways of dealing with it, mostly illegal, fairly predictable, but enjoyable.
The more uncertain my future gets the happier I am, but I feel like there will be a point when I grow up very quickly. Some situations that would cause me to grow up:
I get arrested.
A parent dies.
Blood shows up when I cough.
I lose my job.
A car accident injures me moderately.
Radiohead puts out a terribly boring record (I feel this is least likely to happen).
John McCain wins the presidency of United States.
Barack Obama wins, then is murdered on live television.
Certain friends grow to despise me.
Former adversaries become friendly acquaintances.
I father a child.
There could be more.
None of these things have happened, so I remain a twenty-year old male with high ambition seeking the path of least resistance while hiding behind a shroud of 'personal experiences' that supposedly shapes personality.
Side note: I want to submit poetry for many new sites started by some acquaintances. If you are one of these people, I'll try to get something to you soon.
Out of all the things that have happened around me over the last two months, one reassuring moment of clarity: Poetry has helped turn me into a better person. That seems like a ridiculous sentence to say but I feel like I neglect or ignore certain things that are far more important to me than I'd like to let on.
But not poetry. it's fucking great. it's the bees knees.