Let's not pretend that that is a thing.  Rather, let us demand of ourselves better than that.  Let us accept that which is and move beyond and through, much like a birth, but with less mess and without all that hippy crap thrown in about rebirth and the bullshit that comes with it, k?

So I'm 30 now.  As of a couple days ago, I am indeed 30.  How do you folks do it?  Those of you who are upwards of whatever, that is.  I cannot comprehend the mindset it takes to be set in one's mind to produce a checkmate to all that is abhorrent to the senses and senseis.

Then again, I'm probably over analyzing, as I oft do, and do, and do, and do, and do.

It's been a strange time for a time, and a confusing one at that.  What one wants and what wants one is a difference between need and greed and everything between.  Do you know what I mean, Norma Jean?  Commander Keen?  Plasticine? 

Every time I think I cross a threshold into holding oneself upright like some anti-knuckle dragging immature fuckwit, I look up the mountain and see Andrew Ryan laughing at me in his cocoon of false bravado; if that makes sense.  It gets old you know?  And I feel like I've written this missive, countless times before.   I feel like I have become the very stereotype of the thing which I purported I was not to begin with, yet....

Yet...

Bah... I might as well chip in for cash and title it "Everything's Blue in this World". Then we would truly see who owns the charity concert and who was the person with the purse-lined pockets of gildenstern and rosenfucks.

But, then, what do I know?

I know that a Gamma Ray Burst in any portion of the 75% of our galaxy nearest Milky Way-bound would do us in, pointed rightfully (and mightfully), I do not know why that's a comforting thought.

That is also a lie. I know precisely why.

Anyway, my point is, it's strange to run across you all here, doing what you do, and therefore I feel slightly pathetic for wandering back here in a sense of nostalgia and wanting, being that I am at an aesthetic crossroads perpetrated by the arbitrary numerical counting of arabic numerals and all.

But, c'est la brie, wot wot.

Mostly, I just wish things were clearer, you know?  I have spent a majority of my life rejoicing in the grey aspects of everything, and, as such, feel as though a little striation would do me well.

Anyway, that's all I have.  I hope this missive finds you all well, and I am sorry to have broken the ever churning drama opera here, but you know... sometimes you gotta check in with your real peepz yo. 

Which is to say, I will watch out for comments... for a while... for a while...

With all love,
Q