What is it about you that draws me near?

Call me crazy, but I believe in the importance and power of well placed selfishness. To do something for others because it feels good to you is the cornerstone of progress.

How much is your time worth?

Inside, I feel empty. It is because of this connection with emptiness that I dedicate my life to searching. My search is different from that of others however, because my search is an internal one. This I suspect to be immediately untrue though because the mere act of separating oneself from anything, regardless of perceived connection is in itself a flawed act. Consider this; to speak of one thing is to speak of all things, and to speak of an internal is to reference the absolute relevance of an external within a given discourse. Therefore, to search within, one must look outside. The self is in itself neither separate nor singular.

It seems to me that everything of importance, both monumental and mild acts of importance, begin within the fervent sparks of a personal plan; which is to say that every life destined to mean anything at all, must at some point lock itself into an absolute and moreover concise statement of purpose.

World, I disagree with you. I disagree with a sincerity and passion seldom found upon your surface. You and I have never actually been in full agreement, but as of late, the distance between our personal perspectives has grown so great that if I could summon the strength to sprout wings right now, I would.  And without skipping a beat, my feet would spring from your surface leaving our disagreements to fade into the distance between us.

A gun is a device that was created for the purpose of launching a tiny projectile hard enough and fast enough into and out of a living body with little or no effort. This is an act that is for all accountable purposes, impossible to do on one's own. Defend the guns existence if you must, but I believe that given the awe inspiring amount of effort a woman must undertake in order to create life, it is only right to limit the ease at which it can be taken.

Bees have no malintent. They go to work. They get thirsty. They are curious sometimes too. But they don't desire a good kamikaze against your ass. Like us, they defend themselves. Bees are like us. When I see a bee. I wave hello. If it comes close, my hand and the bee do a slow waltz, and never do I shoo the bee or swat the bee. Hell, I don't even curse at the bee. I treat it with respect, greet it, and let it go on with its day.

A few curious facts about bees: http://ag.arizona.edu/pubs/insects/ahb/inf4.html

All dolled up, dressed to the nines, D cap, smart vest, socks and shoes to match, yet somehow stuck in my new abode. Rain falls. The sun sets. Cold air defies the glass panes of my bedroom windows. A subtle chill builds.

My day began less than three hours ago. The time was 16:00. I Fell asleep at 2:00. Nobody needs that much sleep. Jet lag or not, it's simply unnatural. But once again, I rebel. Normality, I hwark and launch an arching spit in your face. Savor that you flavorless bitch...

I live. I wake in the morning. Upon waking, I sit up, I breathe, I look, I touch, and I smell the world around me. I eat and drink. I taste what I eat and drink. And I consider everything. Often however, I fail to understand what I consider. I accept my stupidity.

There was once a time when I believed myself to be intelligent, not nearly as intelligent as those around me seemed to believe themselves to be, but intelligent nonetheless. I felt aware of my surrounding as though they were controllable and I became rather proficient at controlling them or at least doing what I imagined to be me controlling them. I was a conquering protagonist in the theatrical role of my life; that is, not the role of my life, but rather, the role of a man living his life wherein the man in question is me.