My cousin IM'd me the other day and asked if I was still in England having the time of my life. I laughed maniacally in my head. I'm sort of doing what I was doing in the US, catching up with old friends and looking for ways to help them around their houses. In my spare time I peruse blogs and become saddened by bleak news or discouraged by the seemingly more talented individuals around the planet. Constantly I'm questioning my purpose. I wonder about what defines us and why having a definition even matters. The soap bubble that is societal pressure is creeping up around me and it freaks me out man.
I think, wow, look how far I've come but feel that I've gotten nowhere. Somewhere, there's Anonymous laughing his butt off. I want to hide away from everyone and I want to burst out and blow them all the way. I want to have the last laugh. Manic. Maniacal.
I'm going to London for the weekend. Then I'm slipping off to somplace warm next week. Before California, I'm going to hop over to another great American city. Every now and then I like to forget that I've become the malcontent. I think of how I've drifted through Los Angeles, New York, and London in the last month. How romantic. I'm like one of those old ladies from that Sex and the City movie. Except I have only five wardrobe changes and barely enough money left to make a sandwich. I'm off to take some photos.
I'll Never Forget You (mp3)