Afterword

On their very popular podcast, the Minimalists recently posted an episode on debt. Generally I think the ideas they espouse are really good, and I've learned a lot of helpful tips from them. In a country where far too many people live in excess, the Minimalists provide a road map for people interested in living happier lives with less.

However, for those who enjoy their podcast as much as I do, you may have been as disappointed as I am with some of their views on debt. Ryan Nicodemus sort of takes a back seat on this topic, and actually seems more reasonable than Joshua Fields Millburn, suggesting that debt can be used responsibly if necessary. In this episode, Ryan's view is to take on as little debt as you can and pay it off as quickly as possible. Josh, on the other hand, takes an extreme stance that any and all debt is bad — and that the only option is to pay it off immediately — even at the expense of your sanity, precious time, or opportunity costs.

My suggestion is to not be too hard on yourself if you have certain kinds of debt. Obviously, take an honest assessment of your individual situation and use your gut. If you want to get on a path to freedom from debt, talk to a financial advisor or a friend who is good with their finances if you don’t have the skills yourself. In most cases, the quick payoff is the smartest way to go.

I won’t go into depth on the Minimalists' ideas about financing your education. Sure, in a perfect world, no one would graduate with any debt for trying to better themselves with higher education. The system is naturally flawed. But just because you did not plan on becoming a doctor or lawyer doesn't mean that it was a bad decision to take on student debt to get ahead and give you leverage to follow your passion. Sure, there are arguments for not getting a degree in certain situations. Sometimes you can work your ass of for a decade, proving yourself over and over again before finally (maybe) winning the lottery for that job of your dreams. But for the vast majority of us, that just isn't an option. Getting a degree is the quickest path to success.

The long-term earning potential for a college graduate far outweighs the costs over a lifetime. Someone who holds a bachelor’s degree earns almost double that of someone with a high school diploma, on average. Should you minimize the debt you take on? Absolutely. Schools should also do a better job to help students understand the long-term implications of taking on student debt so that a financed summer in Italy or spring break in Cabo just don't look so compelling to an 18 year old.

In the Minimalists' episode on debt, one caller posed a question via voicemail. She took on $70,000 in debt to go to graduate school and now works for a nonprofit. She is part of the Public Service Loan Forgiveness program, and her question for Josh and Ryan was whether or not she should just pay it all off as quickly as possible or put in the 10 years in public service required of the program and have the remaining debt be forgiven? At first, Ryan started by saying that those programs are there for a reason, but Josh quickly responded that she should just “pay it off as soon as possible."

This is where I wholeheartedly disagree. Because of math. Let's begin with the fact that there is no way for her to erase her decision to take on this debt. Even in bankruptcy, student loans do not go away. However, by working in a public service field, she has the opportunity to have some of her debt forgiven through the Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF) program through the U.S. Department of Education. Under this program, if you do not make a lot of money (a meaningful career in public service — go figure), you can get on an Income-Driven Repayment Plan. These programs can limit your student loan payments to 10% of your discretionary income, as defined by the amount you make over a certain percentage of the national poverty line. If your loans are big enough, you may not pay even the interest on that loan. I know that sounds scary, but hear me out. After 10 years of payments in a public service job, the remainder of your loan is forgiven. And guess what else? All of that interest that you pay? It’s a tax write-off (up to $2500/yr). Depending on your income, you could get a pretty substantial percentage of your payments back at the end of each tax year.

Below I run a few basic repayment scenarios outlining why JFM's advice is not only financially bad, but why, in my opinion, it is counter intuitive to a minimalist lifestyle.

Bear with me while we look at some repayment examples.

 

Scenario 1 — Normal Payment Plan:

$70,000, 7.5%, minimum payment ($517.29) @ 25 years (normal gov’t pmt plan) = $155,188.15 paid in both principal and interest.

Scenario 2 —Pay Off ASAP (assumes double payments):

$70,000, 7.5%, double payments ($1034.58) @ 7 years 5 months = $91,277 paid in both principal and interest.

Scenario 3 — The PSLF Program:

$70,000, 7.5%, income based repayment plan ($400 @ 2% increases annually due to income growth) = $52,558 repaid (the rest forgiven).

 

Potential savings on the Public Service Loan Forgiveness program as compared to the double payment scenario is $38,719. And that doesn't even include the tax benefits of up to $2500/yr.

This is no small sum. Think of all of the things you could do with that money, not least of which would be saving for retirement.

With a conservative hourly wage at a nonprofit earning $20/hr is $31,200/year after taxes, or $2,600 per month. Double student loan payments would be almost 50% of their income for 7.5 years. We in the affordable housing realm have a name for paying 50% of your income on anything: poverty.

If she paid the recommended 30% of her income on housing, which is nearly impossible these days with the way that rent is going up, she would be left with about $600-700 per month for ALL of the rest of her needs for seven and a half years. That's less than what the average person living on social security and living in public housing makes.

I can all but guarantee that if she takes their advice that she is going to have the most miserable seven and half years of her life scrimping and budgeting, all while she was trying to have a better life by going to college, not a worse one.

The opportunity costs, wasted time, wasted money, and lower quality of life all to repay something that would be forgiven anyway just does not compute for me. We can debate whether or not it was a good idea to get into this much debt in the first place, but the ideas presented on the program represent unsound financial advice.

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The best part about singing Neil Young is that it doesn’t really matter if you hit the notes or not.

Since I have Fridays off, I had a four day weekend due to the holiday today. I could use more of these. I didn't get any reading done like I had planned, but I had a fun and relaxing weekend regardless.

On Friday, Kate and I went down to Cedar Point to indulge our need for some cheap excitement. I wasn't feeling the best that day, but we still got in seven or so big coaster rides that shook my general malaise and made me feel truly alive for the first time since I can't remember when. I almost got sick on the Millennium Force, but the initial drop of over 300 feet got me ramped up with a big shot of adrenaline!

I made it a point to not shy away from any coaster, despite my fear of heights. I wanted to feel afraid. I probably feared Power Tower the most. Usually there are long lines, but since it's an older ride, we got right on it, without the usually mental prep that goes along with waiting and watching others experience it. Power Tower is an ominously tall tower that either shoots you up…or drops you down. We did the version that drops you down. You get cranked up to the top and you sit there for maybe 10 or 15 seconds and the view of lake Erie is tremendous. It was the only thing that kept me from freaking out up at the top. And when it shoots you down the long steel beams faster than gravity, you really almost have an out-of-body experience. At least that's what it felt like to me.

Top Thrill Dragster was by far the most intense, but still incredibly fun. It shoots you to 120 mph in a matter of a couple seconds down a steel course like a dragstrip, only then to be projected straight up in the air over 400 feet, rolled over a curve that points you straight down, and then careened 270 degrees while still vertical, and back to the origin of the ride. It's short, but that's the fun bit. You're not jolted, save for the initial launch of 120 mph, and you have just enough time to get scared out of your mind before you're back down to the safe ground at sea level. By far my favorite ride at the place.

The only disappointing thing about the park is that the people there seemed so trashy. I really tried not to judge people too much, but when you're waiting in an hour-long line for a ride, you get pretty up close and personal with a lot of strangers. The girls dressed so raunchy and the guys were all Hollister-wearing surfer wannabees or dirty backwater Midwesterners. I guess that's what I should have expected at a place designed for cheap thrills. But this didn't ruin the day, it was just eye-opening, especially since I don't have a lot of contact with teenyboppers in my everyday life.

Saturday I went to the lake with my folks and it was jam packed with the same kind of people. A lot of bad tattoos and guys trying to be macho, poor people with kids trying to get a cheap, yet fun, weekend in before they went back to their blue collar lives on Tuesday. I feel like an outsider in those situations, like I don't know how to interact with these Michigan lifers. I know they exist everywhere, but I have to admit that outside of the South, the Midwest probably has the most uncultured white trash in the U.S. I know because I used to be one of them. All the while I try to be more accepting of people, but my lack of understanding of the lives they appear to live has me mind boggled. Funny part is, many of them are no doubt more happy than I am, so who am I to judge?

I'm not wanting to start the week tomorrow, but it's inevitable. I'm going to get some cleaning and laundry done so I don't have to think about it during the week. Hopefully this weekend recharged my batteries enough to get me through for a couple of weeks. Our next trip will be a small one to Saugatuck on Lake Michigan, where hopefully the quaint beach town feel and lack of campgrounds will keep the crazies away long enough for a nice, calm weekend.

I find myself coming back to this place when I'm in transition. Now that I have some extra time, I'll write a little bit.

I've just finished all of my coursework for graduate school and I turned in my professional project proposal on Friday for approval. If it comes back approved, then I have the go-ahead to start filming a documentary on public participation in the planning process. I won't name the community, but the project involves demolition of homes in the floodplain and gardening on the empty lots. It's exciting that I might get to be critical, but I just want school out of my life.

Minus 1 year, I have been going to school non-stop since I was 22 and I'm now 29. For six of the last seven years I have worked to support myself while pulling a full course load, right in the heart of my 20s. I feel like this is such a critical developmental stage in a person's life. Despite truly feeling as though I've learned and accomplished much, there is a lot I missed out on. I see my friends who have traveled the world, backpacked, rode motorcycles across the U.S., lived in interesting places, etc., and I've just watched from the sidelines. Year after year, sacrifices. I got in a couple of good experiences here and there. If it wasn't for living in London that Summer after undergrad, I might have exploded. But I've come out the other end of school feeling a bit like I've been in a coma, not knowing who I really am anymore or where I should be or what I'm supposed to do now. It's probably common, but that doesn't make it feel any less real.

After living at such a fast pace, I'm thinking about getting back to basics and in touch with myself, and in touch with my community. I want to sell my car and remove that payment, buy a bike and really make the effort to use it whenever I can. It leaves me with a feeling of calm the way I'm able to just drink in the neighborhoods at my own pace. I feel a part of it.

I want to know what it's like to read for pleasure again. I found a book I bought a few years ago, recommended by a friend, that I started and never finished. I want to relax enough to read it and feel like I'm not doing anything wrong by taking time for myself. I want to lay in the yard until the sun creeps behind the trees and I'm forced to go inside for light.

I will concentrate on being comfortable where I am, while making strides to save money so that my next adventure, a move, is a real possibility. Goals are good.

It feels so good to write this, like a weight being lifted off of me.

I’ve found my way back here because of an old friend who always has the right things to say. The funny thing is, I don’t even know where to start because I’ve been bottling things up for so long that I feel like I could explode into a mess of flesh and Type O Positive all over the tacky wainscoting of my parents' basement. I guess I’ll start small, with humility, and without lying to myself anymore. The truth is, I haven’t been happy in a really long time. I was just tired of being unhappy and looking unhappy and sounding unhappy, so I adopted a “keep on the sunny side of life” facade, always trying to find the optimist inside of me. In doing so, I neglected a lot of negative energy that should have naturally come out of me in small bits. They are instead now causing nervous breakdown. I thought that writing in this shit once again would help organize some of my thoughts, and vent out some of my frustration. Sounds so generic to say that. But I’m not going to worry about how things sound. I need to do this. Besides, anything over 2 lines in a journal entry always gets skimmed over anyways. Don’t worry, I do it too. I’m a hypocrite.

I have trouble talking. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, I really do. My mind races fast with thoughts, but I can’t organize them to come out how they should. I linger on statements in my mind before they get filtered down to my mouth, and they never come out as I plan. I pay too close attention to what comes from my mouth, with many pauses. I envy those people who can flow at the mouth as if there were no second thought to what is being said, even if what they are saying is complete and utter garbage in my mind.

I call up my friend Derek out west and he’s got this brilliant head on him. I don’t think he would be offended if I said that he’s not what you would call “book smart”, but fuck if this kid doesn’t have the wit and quickness. He will drive the conversation about his life and somehow make even the most average of everday occurances completely original and awe-inspiring. I don’t think I’ve ever told him that, but Derek, if you’re reading this, I really look up to you and admire your fresh look on things. I wish I had that. I just can’t think like you do.

Second is my apathy, which controls life situations as well as speech. I don’t really watch TV, so I can’t speak about that. I barely even watch or listen to the news anymore. It all sounds like hell and I can’t even form my own opinions on what I should feel about certain situations and topics. Perhaps I’m just a coward and afraid to be wrong. I don’t have a mind for names, so even if I do watch or hear something, I can never remember who was in it. I can’t tell a story for shit. Music is another thing. I’ve stopped playing music and that really bothers me. I barely even keep up on music anymore and that really bothers me. But at the same time I just don’t care to try. I only read one book all summer. Usually I read at least 6 or 7. The scary part is, if I have any downtime at all, all I want to do is sit or lie on the couch. I don’t like that about myself. I don’t like that I can zone out of my life and be complete apathetic about the direction in which it is going, or the person I am becoming.

There are things in my life that I should feel proud of, but I don’t. I’m a senior at at top university in the country and all I can do is kick myself in the ass for not getting it done sooner. I came back to finish a mistake, to finish something I started, and I’m doing well, doing really well, and all I can think about is if I’m doing the right thing. If I shouldn’t have cared so much about this stupid degree. I don’t feel any smarter than I was when I started back up, and by the time I’m done I’ll be 25k in debt (even after the thousands of dollars in grant money). I feel sometimes that I should have followed my passions more instead of compromising myself for this thing we call “growing up”. I’ve just been poor for so long that I wonder what it’s like to have nights and weekends off and enough money to actually survive on.

I see tons of people that I went to high school with that are married with children and a house and a nice car, and even though I don’t want most of these things at this point in my life, I feel like I’m judged for not having them. I feel smarter and more creative than most, yet here they are “successful” by society’s standards. I need some validation of my own. Sometimes I just need someone else to tell me that I’m doing the right thing. But where is the moral support these days? We’re all just supposed to suck it up and expect nothing from nobody because we’re adults now and we can only rely on ourselves.

I’ve learned a lot about myself the last few months, while dating Sarah. Come to find out, we’re almost emotionally identical. So getting mad at each other was like getting mad at oneself, to find fault in the other was to find fault in oneself. I’m actually furious at her right this moment, but in being so I have to be mad at Bryan. Bryan doesn’t like that. Bryan is a stubborn bastard. Bryan shouldn’t refer to self in the third person. Maybe this is a topic best left for a later post, for this is ending up to be a nonsensical bunch of words on a page with no order. I don’t really care anymore. At this point I’m just talking and letting the words flow as they come because I’m so sick of them staying, battering me from the inside, and giving me headaches. Sarah and I broke up, and I think it’s for the better, but I’ve always been the nostalgic type and have never found it to be easy to let anyone go from my life. I’m sure many can attest to that. Done for now.

Los Angeles, I’m yours

But Newport is where the heart is

Yet another contributor of Bryan's DNA in a long line of Barnette and Robb dead-beats, has died.

Meet the other "grandfather" that I'd never met:

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I love how they always chaulk people up to be these amazing people in their obituaries. As if setting up franchises should be held in high esteem.

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John Barnette, Jr., 79, of Comstock died Friday, September 9, 2005 at Golden Age Manor in Amery. He was born July 18, 1926 in Enman, SC to John and Willie Sue (Hunt) Barnette, Sr. John served on the USS Dyson during WWII. He was married in Watertown, SD on November 18, 1977 to Mardel Catlin. John worked on the railroad in South Carolina and was a supervisor at the St. Croix Casino. He was past commander of the Charles R. Knaeble VFW Post in Crystal, MN and was a member of the Cumberland American Legion. John was the past grand Hospital Chairman and past 4th Area Commander of the Minnesota Cooties and was a member of the Disabled American Veterans. He was a very active volunteer, enjoyed making homemade crafts with Mardel and was always fixing things around the house. He is survived by his wife, Mardel of Comstock; 3 sons, Keith Barnette of Saginaw, MI, John Barnette of Florida & Shawn Barnette of Comstock; 1 stepson, Tony Hall of Michigan; 4 daughters, Dianne (Fred) Lipton of Rosalyn, PA, Kelly (Isaac) Bennett of Michigan, Debbie Barnette of Michigan & Rebecca Barnette of Paris, France; 1 stepdaughter, Patricia Richards of Comstock; 25 grandchildren; 13 great grandchildren and 1 sister, Kitty (Ted) Music of Chesapeake, VA and also many nieces and nephews and his beloved Yorkshire Terrier, Peanut. He was preceded in death by his parent, his parents-in-law; 12 brothers and sisters; 1 sister-in-law and 2 brothers-in-law. Funeral services will be held at 11:00 AM Wednesday, September 14, 2005 at Skinner Funeral Home, Turtle Lake with Rev. Brian Perry officiating. Burial will be in Northern Wisconsin Veterans Memorial Cemetery, Spooner, WI. Pallbearers are Patti Richards, Vern Catlin, Emmett Catlin, Gene Doster, Larry Verby and Mike Catlin. Military Honors will be accorded by Wisconsin Military Honors Team. Visitation will be 4-8 PM Tuesday at the Skinner Funeral Home in Turtle Lake and one hour before the services on Wednesday.

<img src="img.photobucket.com/albums/v4… alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com">

<img src="img.photobucket.com/albums/v4… alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com">

Did you ever “french roll” their pants when you were a kid?

I just thought of that and I’m laughing hysterically.

A simple Google search for the terms "defense spending" (in quotes) returns 477,000 results.

On the other hand, a Google search for the terms "offense spending" returns a measly 161 results.

Man, they've really got those fucking terms switched around.

Do some people actually fall for these scams? Is there really that one guy out there who logs into his mailbox and says, "Holy shit!...somehow the 5 million I never knew I spent, in a venture I completely forgot I participated in, came up missing!...and despite the remarkable peculiarity of their not knowing whether I'm a sir or madam, they're now going to pay me back this money because they went into a pact with a reputable bank! Bless their hearts!".

Who does that?

I must say, though, that despite how impressed I am with Google’s spam filter, those Orwellian tele-programmes target advertisements “powered by gooooogle” work a little too good. Awesome to know that I can get a hotel at a decent price when I go to cash in on this deal.

I'm finally doing it. I'm attempting to write again, and not just in a rambling, psuedo-poetic sense either. This time I actually have a plan, a general storyline, and I'm in the process of creating character sketches and doing geographical research. There is still much work to be done, but once these hurdles are out of the way, the actual writing will be a snap, and fun! It may be slow going when fall begins, but this should give me something creative to focus my energy on in the downtime. I'm thinking about calling it Ink&Watercolors, but this is only tentative, as I'll never know what's really relative until it's polished. I'm really excited.

I'm red as a lobster. I went out on the lake with my dad yesterday for about 5 hours and we ran out of sunscreen. No bueno. Thank god for aloe.

Also, I have a pretty good prospect for a place to live thanks to . I will know in the weeks to come.

Between a few thousand dollars in grants and a few thou in loans, school is set and keeping me comfortable…for now; though I don't like the loan part too much. I guess all that I can hope for is a decent job when I graduate so that they won't become too big a problem.

But I'm definitely getting one of these sometime next month: <img src="img.photobucket.com/albums/v4… alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com">

four hundred pages into crime and punishment in two days. it's been sitting in my library for about 4 years and it has just now felt right to read it. i remember the exact day i bought it, too. from one of those creepy booksellers at the flea market 4 summers ago on my way to lansing. he was absolutely mad. i offered him $100 dollars for the whole box (they were collector's books, but none were in great shape), all classics. i did some quick calculating and presented my offer to him, though he turned me down. i took 3 of them and told him that he of all people should know that he wasn't going to get that much money for them in a hundred years, especially judging by the character of his 'clientel'.

i guess that is beside the point. now i think that maybe i wasn't supposed to read them. i don't know why, but i'm a firm believer that certain people and things come into our lives at certain times, not fatefully, but instead to set out their hands for you to grasp if it is your position to do so at that place and time. our lives are nothing but a series of these events, thousands of hands lining a gauntlet where at any time you're free to grasp the ones you want to take with you. sometimes you're not in a position to do so, or you're concentrating on other things and fail to notice. other times you're presented with too many choices and can only make but a few, leaving the others forever in the past.

the loophole for me is books. they are frozen in time, but at any point can influence your life emmensely. not necessarily the world around you, but certainly your outlook can change in a matter of days. you can give them as gifts and alter other people. you can converse over them with people that have grasped the hands of those books, too, and it's as though you were both at the same place at the same time, even if you've never met said person beforehand. intimate relationships can be sparked.

as i've said, i have books that lay around that i never read until it's in my guts time for me to do so. you cannot force these things.

been a while, old friend.  clean slate?  tell that to the ghosts.  they've been knocking around in this old head of mine...conspiring through the walls where they've been captured..err...were captured.  i should probably leave that analogy dead in its tracks.  but the fact is they're here, really here, and i'm not bottling them, and hiding them in places any longer.

mystic thought would have me forgetting my ego, transcending myself so to speak; and believe me, i've tried on a daily basis for years.  when i really concentrate i can get it, and other times when i'm not paying attention–mind so numb it doesn't want to function anymore–i get it then, too.  those are the islands.  was it Huxley that said we are our own island universe?  i forget.  i don't think my transcending self has been natural.  if there was a line, say from chicago to new orleans that represented a natural progression toward enlightenment, or simply a calm, quiet, well being, then i would have to say that when my mind goes black i'm somewhere in the upper stratosphere falling toward some point along that line.  the harder i fight self, the stronger it comes back.  this has led me to believe that i've needed these few steps back in order to make it a couple steps forward, comfortably.  one foot in front of the other, firmly planted on the ground.  everything out in the open.

i've been considering lately the possibility that all of the drugs i've taken have come back to bite me in the ass, and maybe i'm permanently fucked up because of them.  i don't know how seriously to consider this for the sheer fact that i've known plenty of people who have done more drugs than your average touring funk band, and all in all, they are quite fine individuals.  i was never a junky.  i never did drugs on a regular basis, ever.  i've never done heroin or crack or meth, but given the mental state of certain family members, i would say the drugs could do nothing but compound the problem.  i have my doubts, but i won't rule it out.

the truth is things aren't bad.  things certainly aren't fantastic, but i shouldn't have anything to complain about, or be as grumpy as i am.  family is alive and well.  on a decent course in life that i feel confident about.  i'm beyond  broke and quite a bit lonely at times, but the money thing doesn't bother me so much because i'm disgusted with 'things' anyway.  i could use some love.  i hear there are worse things than being alone, and i believe that to be the truth.

i am a fear-filled person.  i may look and sound like a hard ass on the outside sometimes, but rest assured those are just well developed defense mechanisms.  i'm scared of people.  i don't like public places because i hate people.  yet i force myself into those places and situations constantly in hopes that maybe i'll develop as a person.  im an adolescent again, entering freshman year, completely the object of scrutiny; but instead of all of the hate coming from the farm kids picking on the city kid, coming from the outside in, i'm turning my insides out with self-doubt, feelings of inadequacy, and sometimes all out self hatred.  the best example i can give of what goes on in my head is in the movie Adaptation.  Kaufman's monologues are very similar to what goes on in my head on a second to second basis, 85 percent of the time.  i have done some reading up on the brain and from what i've gathered, thinking at the rate that i do uses a hell of a lot of energy.  this would explain the constant fatigue, and also might have something to do with my not gaining weight. ever.

even with my closest friends, despite their subtle and even not-so-subtle reassurances that should tell me i'm an a-okay person, i still question my worth as a person in their company.

i don't feel better than people.  not even necessarily do i  always think that i'm worse than people.  i just feel different than people.  i don't understand them.  i don't understand the constant striving for money and possessions.  i don't understand the constant diluting of a culture by the next pop sensation.  do people read anymore, or is that a lost art?  i don't understand the closed-mindedness.  i don't understand the fighting against stereotypes when they are reinforced, in my eyes, day to day.  i don't understand why everyone is so standoffish, and when somebody such as myself isn't, there's always something that comes back to kick that person in the ass three-fold.

i am an old person who doesn't want to grow up?  until recently i would have been ashamed to admit that i'm a very intelligent person who lacks a lot of so-called common sense knowledge, and/or life skills.  before this year i couldn't have cooked anything unless it came out of a box with instructions.  i set my bills to pay automatically because i'm so forgetful of things, they'd never be on time.  i've relied on people too much, such as family.  i don't have a savings account.  small talk is a big deal.  i've no wit whatsoever.  just cynicism that rubbed off on me in a friendship that no longer is, that i try to pass off as wit in those situations that call for quick comebacks.  i'm super bad with names.  i'm a super good listener if there's a chance that i can have some sort of relationship with the person, but if i don't like them, tough luck.  i can't see that side of the coin, and i don't expect them to see mine.  i'm stubborn as hell.  i change my mind all the time.  <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />st1:placest1:Citynew york</st1:City>, st1:StateLA</st1:State>, st1:country-regionnew zealand</st1:country-region></st1:place>…fuck it, i'll end up here working at a gas station, or a bum/prophet.  meet me behind the new chain restaurant.  the food is still warm.

i don't know if i'm lucky or damned to have people who support me all the way, but i can't help but feel like someone should have thrown me into the deep end a long time ago.  here i am, all dry, with the attention span of a 5 year old dyslexic, delusions of grandeur, sexual frustration and inadequacies of a pubescent boy, "knowledge" beyond my years, and the senility of a 75 year old dementia patient.

crisp grace notes like a flowing falsehood flavored to taste after brazen attempts to pare film on the firmament, light broken apart and bent aberrancy for the sake of itself, or if for some other thing, I did not see it cross sections of old films and well-functioning defense mechanisms healed better, not so pretty “I feel” kissing you made me sick-frozen from fright of bite troubled is as troubled does scapegoats fancied like play lists played as bedtime stories for empty people with excuses between the bed sheets shrills to a march, whose heart is not there to solidify a fog into all-out rain, to further menace a drear grope my rain-soaked trousers, I’m meat worry not: your name is safe with me and there will be no lies handed out because we’re fiction enough to ourselves to tire us even in sleep

b.robb