Below are the 8 most recent journal entries recorded in visto's LiveJournal:

Saturday, November 5th, 2005
4:34 am	Look at mother nature on the run... I was lying in a burned out basement with the full moon in my eye I was hoping for replacement when the sun burst through the sky there was a band playin' in my head and I felt like getting high. Thinking about what a friend had said... I was hoping it was a lie. Thinking about what a friend had said... I was hoping it was a lie. Applaud when approriate. Not appreciating this? Get listenin' fool Visto (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, July 6th, 2005
3:38 am	Dreams Lately I've been having dreams nearly every night. In fact last night before I went to bed, I actually thought to myself, "I wonder what things I'll dream of tonight." The dreams that really interest me, are the ones that I find disturbing, that is, that when I think about then, I feel really uneasy. The first disturbing one I've had lately can be summed up in a few words: I killed four men with knives in my Kingston home. It's really not much more interesting than that. The one I had last night however, was very disturbing. I'm sure I'll be thinking about it for a while. Please excuse the poor writing, spelling, grammar, etc. It's very late. I'll try to go over it tomorrow and fix it up. It begins that I am searching for a job, having just recently moved to some new city. I'm living and hanging around with many friends that are also looking for jobs. So, somehow I manage to find some offer on the internet. It had something to do with computers, and math, and other stuff like that, and seemed to be some phenomenal opportunity that was nearly unbelievable. The strange thing though, was the offer itself. I can't recall exactly what it was about it, but it seemed very suspicious. So, I go to the job interview, and this is where things become very strange. Somehow I have entered some type of dark cave. I am surrounded by 'things' that resemble terrifying goblins and gouls moving around and behaving in ways no other animal on earth has ever done. Some of them speak english, and are talking to me. Some of them seem to be there just for the purpose of freightening me. Everything is very dark, and confusing, and so far beyond any ability of mine to react rationaly at all. I feel as if they are talking to me about the job, about what they are doing, and somehow at the same time revealing to me all the most terrifying aspects of hell... but none of it can really be summed up in words. I am simply overwhelmed with fear by everything I'm seeing that I can't comprehend a thing. Somehow I am taken through pathways by a large party of these gouls, driven at fast speeds around the intricate network of 'caves' in what is probably best described as a 'moving of my soul'. Everything is very surreal and supernatural. I know I am travelling fast, and can see the caves walls moving quickly, but cannot tell how I am moving. I suddenly find myself at home again, perhaps the next day, talking to some of my friends about their job search. At this point, I am not thinking at all about the terrifying experience... I believe it had been completely 'blocked' from my memory.... until one of my friends shows me this ad he'd found, saying it looked pretty interesting. I look at it, and of course realize that it's the same ad I had replied to, and warn him not to go, but can hardly bring myself to tell him any of the details, let alone put myself through the agony of recalling them. However, my friend insists, and starts recruiting more of my friends to come along, and before I know it, everyone is onboard. I try to warn everyone, trying to tell them the terrible things I'd seen, as if trying to explain peering into hell itself. I believe I am terrified more of the things that I did not see, the things I didn't want to see. No one, however, will believe me. As a last resort, I decide that I must accompany them. Having survived the first time (and feeling very lucky to have done so) I feel it may be the best chance they have for survival... besides which, if I didn't go, I might be left with the mystery of why exactly, they didn't come back. So we go. We all go in one big group. This time, the experience is much more troublesome. I have no visual recolections of what happened, but only feelings of great tribulations. As a group, we pursue an emotional journey, as it were... a journey completely devoid of any memories of anything not emotional. We feel pain, suffering, hopelessness, oppression, with feelings of being together as a group with support from others, and every other emotion I have felt since the beginning of my life, and many more that I am sure I could not identify and describe with words. Accompanying all of these, as they grow, fade away, and mix together seemlessly, is nearly constant fear. Somehow, after what could have been days, weeks or years.... we emerge from the journey, into a room, and settle. There is a great feeling of accomplishment, and I find myself feeling like 'one' with others in the group. It feels as if a great bond has been made with all of them, including a woman who I feel I am so in love with, and one with, I just stare at her, and she stares back, and every emotion I had felt on the journey rushes through me. So we lay back, in our bodies again, as it were, and absorb what is around us, and finally settle down into a seat for a moment, finally able to rest. We find ourselves then, seated at a table. Everything now seems visually, about the same as the first time. But I feel no fear. One of the creatures, who seems to be a leader of some sorts, comes to talk with us. He gives us some speach, and we understand. A video is played. It is of high quality and computer animation, displayed on the wall of the cave. It is very impressive. It gives us the facts, everything we should know about what is going on here. It is revealed to us what is happening. We have essentially found the foundation of every intillectual development in the world, every technology that has found itself in our world, and nearly anything else we can imagine that has been devloped by mankind. This seems to be, a layer of forgotten souls, who are the ones behind everything we see on earth. It seems to be the internet especially, that is prominent with them now, and other computer related subjects. It seems that the internet has become a revolution for them, in that they now have a portal by which it is extremely easy for them to release their developments... without any need for human interaction. It's all electronic. I think about the fact that such elegance has been lost, but then realize how easy it has been for them to hide now, and the ingenious, but completely unexpected truth arouses my interest. I realize then, that the others around me are not so strange. Here are my friends at the table, and there are the goblins and gouls I had seen on my first trip. They all 'look' the same, but I am not uncomfortable with them. They seem to be my friends now... they seem one with all of us. The video that has been playing now stops, and the authoritative figure that has been conducting the meeting tells us now that we know much about this 'secret' world, and now that we have seen it, it's simply time to start enjoying ourselves (and he says this with a more of a joyous attitude, as if he is ready to get back to whatever he had been doing -- enjoying himself). The video comes back on, with fancy computer animation and music. Everything is prestine, and perfect about it. A flawless voice narrarates the film, describing the 'ONLY' drink they serve. He lists the components of it, as the video shows them being added. It starts with water, then some type of very pure alcohol base, followed by a few peculiar herbs that I was unfamiliar with, followed by addition of absinthe (the narrarator was sure to announce that the absinthe was the secret, final ingredient to their drink). I felt the pressure of being made drink this, and was scared about the absinthe, so I turned to my friend who sat beside me, as if to say that I might want to leave this place at some time, but then realize that I am more or less stuck, and I change attitudes, quickly accepting it, and am happy. We begin our lives in this new, strange world, enjoying ourselves in some sort of 'tribal' way at times, and coming to higher understandings of most anything I imagined. The level of intense emotional experience I have encountered seems to be lost amidst one emotion -- my love for the woman. It seems that only the love matters anymore. The dream ends with me crouching down, and looking into the wandering eyes of the young child I have fathered, who is standing there, unsure of the world around him, as if standing for the first time. I realize that I do not know if it is... it feels that I have been away for some time, possibly seeing this child for the first time only now, and I have no idea how to feel when looking at him, and am overwhelmed with emotion... possibly the first time, since arriving in this strange place. I stare at him now, overwhelmed, only a minute or two after his mother has informed me, that she must speak with me-- and she stands behind me watching...and waiting... then I awoke. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 8th, 2004
11:59 pm	on the road again Well, just in case it's of any interest... to anyone... I'm going on a writing road trip. What is that exactly? It's exactly what it sounds like. I'm taking a laptop with me, driving from Hamilton to Tobermory on highway 6, and stopping along the way to write like mad whenever the inspiration hits me. Then, spend an enormous amount of time at the computer (while camping, mind you) writing the rest of my book. I'll update on my book's status a little later. Unless some major disaster occurs (knock on wood) I'll have the rough copy done by the time I get back. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, August 28th, 2004
11:17 pm	Quotes Why am I posting this? Why is Live Journal suddenly consuming me?? It seems when Sach is up, we always end up with a series of quotes that are repeated without end and for some reason never get boring. For no reason other than Sach's benefit, memories of good times in Kingston, and anyone who's bored enough to read this entry, "Buy me Scene It" (in a deep, deep voice) "And the Archer split the tree..." (sing in Neil Young voice) Last summer I believe it was, "Visto, you're such an HONEST guy!!" am I missing one ? (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, August 15th, 2004
5:08 pm	A little update... Hey everyone, I think this is the first time I've ever made a 'normal' LJ post. Not sure why I'm doing this... just seems like something to do. I just got back from camping. Went to Cedar island, which is right near Old Fort Henry. We got a great little spot on a hill that overlooked the city, the fort, etc. Good times all around. We borrowed a canoe from a friend... it was actually quite a short journey. So, I've written 2 more chapters in the book, and I've been mulling over a good 5 or 10 in my head.... I'm just about ready to sit down and type it out. So, hopefully I'll be able to post some stuff soon. On a separate note, I get to drink on the Monday, the 23rd!!!! I'm hopefully gonna get little bit of a party going at my place (146 Toronto St). Should be an odd mix of characters as it's going to be what's left of my friends in the Kingston summer crowd which seems to be quickly dwindling away the last week or two. Anyhoooo, come one come all... down to my place on the 23rd.. It'll be good times (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, July 27th, 2004
11:03 pm	The rough draft of the first two chapters For anyone who's interested, here are the first two chapters of the book I've been working on.  It's not much... but it's a start.  There's probably a lot of mistakes, and I haven't even really gone through it all very carefully.   I wish I could post more, but I really need to get A LOT more down before I can do this.  Anyways, read it if you're interested, and comment if you feel so inclined (the more detailed and brutal, the better) *********************************     So there she lay, on the cold, damp floor of the bathroom.  Motionless, and growing cold as the night wore on.      Of course I never saw her like this, but I found out later, and the picture came to me as vivid as if I'd seen it.  The detective came and talked to me, they knew we had seen each other the night before.  They knew it was a suicide from the start, and I was merely a formality.  Though my calm, unsure demeanor surely puzzled the man as he sat across from me at my kitchen table, slightly slouched in his chair, with the long overcoat hanging thoughtlessly to the dirty floor.  I thought about acting it up just to get him out of my house, making him think that I actually cared.  But I didn't.     The truth was, that the threat had grown old.  She had tried it, and said it so many times that I could hardly care anymore.  To me, she had died a long time ago, and I know that she felt the same.  I know how it must seem to any reasonable person, that I didn't care.  She was a truly close friend, for many years, so how could I be so cold.  I knew I was justified though, it was just a matter of explaining.  So when I sat down to write out a small report that the detective wanted about the night before, and what we had done, I read it over and shook my head.  What a cold and thoughtless human being I would seem.  The whole page was written without an ounce of compassion.  So I wrote a little more, going back a little further, trying to give a better feeling for where my heart was, and how it had got there.  But I read it over and shook my head again.  So I went back a month, then a year, and finally decided to start right from the beginning: Chapter 1     It was a summer of ecstasy, and not completeness, but of ignorance of all that would never be made right.  Taking rides through the city, and along the country side with the sun in my eyes and the wind rushing in, listening to some tune that'd passed the test of time, and not gotten lost in the endless piles of records that would only ever be played again so that some salvager and searcher of lost gold would know never to take it from the pile again.  A tune that'd passed this test of time, and some how, for some reason gave me the complete and utter sense of completeness as that sun beat down, and the car roared seamlessly through the grasslands somewhere near home.  These were the great summers of my dwindling youth, the carefree days I remember loving without end, when you could live through the sunny day and and sweaty afternoon in complete comfort and harmony, knowing that it's all in preparation for the night, that for the entire day, is a promise of endless possibilities and adventure.  Adventure that often never happened.  But that late, late sun that would hang on the horizon, shedding the eternally perfect weave of reds and oranges, the last great testament of the fleeting glory and simplicity of early times, that on the greatest of days in late June would push the day far into the night, and no one could care less about what happened after it.  For the stories of those days ended as the last pages of a great novel that stretch far beyond your greatest imagination, each word absorbed without any doubts, and fades into a closed page, and a deep, long gaze ahead.     I remember some of the clearest moments, being atop a large rock I used to climb up aside a clear blue lake.  I used to sit there in the evenings, a beach below where I knew I'd find at least half a dozen friends, and there were no worries about where and when and how.  The sun would glisten off each crescent of the smallest waves, a myriad of small, floating diamonds that danced to the slowest and timeless of melodies that our simple minds could only comprehend as whooshes and swishes, and the time in between.  This rock was THE rock.  It was a sanctuary where I left my heart.  There I felt truly happy, and felt like I would understand the world.     Of course these things only set the stage and complemented the other joys in my life at that time.  In those days, there was a woman.  A woman I hardly think about anymore.  Though it'd been only a few years, I could hardly remember the things we did, and the places we went.  All that remained in my mind was the lost feelings, that no matter how genuine at the time, seemed to me now, to just be the ignorance of my youth.          Those were the days I remembered best when I thought back, and wondered why the meaning was lost.  Only a few years had passed and already I was forgetting.  Things seemed duller now, less exciting.  Everything lacked promise.  I wondered endlessly if it was my growing older, and moving away from the good friends I had back then, whose bond was like none that  had been since.  But I couldn't help but feel that something was missing.  Somehow or other I'd turned away for too long, lost a few pages in the middle, and the plot didn't make sense anymore.  You'd think it would be easy, turning back to where you'd left off.  But trying to fit in the parts you vaguely remembered, filling in the story, you forget exactly how things were said.      I drove around the city, or the countryside and small towns, places I had been through many times, years before.  But now all I saw was despair.  I saw worn out mothers dragging their kids around shouting and turning and pulling them together in single movements that never let up, and I didn't have to look into her eyes to feel the despair.  I looked around, and saw old men walking slowly down the street, looking around in disgust with unforgiving eyes at the changing world.  I saw the people of my world walking and driving, and doing their daily biddings and felt only their pain.  It had now become not the weight of the world, but the weight on the world that dragged me down.  I never saw people like this before.  I had come to realize only now, that every person had their own woes, and afflictions, and burdens in life.  Even of the smallest of children, the hopelessness of growing up in a world that would mold them into the same unhappy drone of working life and misfortunes that I saw around me.  But they didn't know it yet.  They were the lucky ones, unprepared and unafraid of their coming years of ignorance that would form a new generation, growing even more unwilling to believe in their own pain than my generation.     I wanted to believe that this pain I felt was not, in fact, the deep rooted, inevitable outcome of life that the masses try to ignore, but a result of my own inhibitions.  A result of my hopelessness and sadness.  But I couldn't see it.  I couldn't see a smile and carefree gaze, just like the ones I'm sure I'd casted years before, without calling the man behind it a liar, a showman to his own fear.  I hated myself for it, and like anything built high enough in my mind's eye, cast shadows in my own eyes, and made me hate what I saw around me.  I tried not to care.     In those days, I contemplated ending it, by my own hand,  but knew the burden it would leave my family.  This is probably what kept me alive for many years.  So I often wished for death, hoping some stranger would appear out of the night and do away with the pointlessness.  As I remember these things, my emptiness returns, and I am filled with all the sadness I couldn't feel when it was happening.  So I'll sum up by saying that this went on for at least a few years, in an unending cycle that I couldn't seem to break.         One day I just left.  My job, my apartment, my family and friends, and every clean piece of clothing I owned was left behind.  It was unexpected, even to myself.  So was the weather.  It was March, and we'd hardly felt a chill in the winter before the days were getting longer, and the days were hot like mid-summer.  It was the warmest year since recorded, that is, since anyone had made a practice of writing down the temperatures.  No one really knew why it was happening, so of course they were all saying it was the end of times, the world would melt under the flaming sun, and some celestial rock would come out of the dark and spite the world with a thousand years' debris in the sky.  Everything would die and we'd have to start again from the smallest amoeba.      Of course I could care less, and I did.  I cared less than I can imagine anyone else would have been able.  But when late March grew warm I was reminded of the good summer days I'd had years before, and doing a good job of tricking myself into ignoring the despair of the world, I suddenly shot out the door on an early Monday morning when I should have been getting ready for work, and drove off, wearing nothing but shorts, sandals and a t-shift (later thanking God, that I'd left a Spring jacket in the trunk from the slightly chilly Winter days).  Looking back, I see myself as a young Dean Moriarty, jetting across the country in desperation, trying to find that one great city, but blinded by the frantic obsession.  Except my journey was North.  North to lakes and valleys formed by the great rock shield that protruded the earth as beautifully indescribable red and golden hues of rounded rocks whose surface had resisted nature's seed since the beginning of time, and would never let up.  This is how the land was in the summer, rolling hills of these rocks that hid countless, clear blue lakes and patches of soil for trees that grew greener and fuller than most people have ever seen.  This is the land where the rock was that I used to climb atop and feel content.  This is where the sun shone in late evening with its greatest glory, illuminating the richest and most peaceful of colours.  And I longed for it again.  Even now, in this warm March day, I knew that there would be no green, and that the sun would let but a drop of its red weave before it slept, and left the barren land hopelessly bitter and cold.  Nothing but brown, awkwardly bent sticks would protrude the soil, as if the end had really come.     So I drove without a thought, without hope or promise.  Without a dream or fear.  Nothingness surrounded me, and I drove faster thinking it might get caught up in the wind and settle somewhere days behind me.  The details are all a blur in my mind.  Somewhere I got caught up in a thought and didn't let it go till I came to a small town coffee shop, and let the thought escape me.  I had been driving for hours, without a thought of food until then.  I got out and stretched my legs, looking around at the few gas stations and general stores that looked like they hadn't been attended to since they were built a good fifty years ago.  The coffee shop was about the only new looking place in miles, or at least as far as I could see.  I hadn't a clue where I was.  All I knew is that I was going north.  Grabbing a bite to eat and a coffee at the shop, I stood outside and leaned against the hot front end of the car and for the first time that day, thought about what I was doing.  The only plan I could commit to, was to keep on the journey, fill up with gas, and stay away from any maps.  I was tempted to take a look for a map in one of the general stores, or even ask one of the townspeople where this place was.  But the thought didn't sit right, so I hopped back in the car and drove along the same road I'd been following for hours.     From then on, I watched the signs, reading all the names, and all the distances though I didn't recognize any of it.  I was far enough away from any big city that all the names on the signs, even hundreds of miles away were foreign to me.  A road came up that said 'Fiddler's' something or other, and it felt right so I pulled a quick left and barreled down the old dirt road.  Then a road number popped up that was the most elegant I'd seen in miles, so I took it.  I took every road that had a good ring to the name, or felt right, or looked like it might disclose some hidden lake or valley that would set off some spark inside me.  Every road felt me coming from hours away, proudly bearing its name and its sights trying to get even a short line in this epic of a journey, with every chance of being chosen in the passion my compulsions unless of course, it headed south. Chapter 2     I was in the middle of nowhere, at least 5 hours from the only place I had stopped.  I hadn't seen more than a handful of houses and gas station towns since the one I'd stopped in.  My erratic style had kept me away from all the main roads that lead to cities of large enough size that I would find a place to stay the night.  It was already late afternoon.     The signs had been pointing for a while to some type of national park ahead, which had the right kind of feeling to it, so, keeping a look out for any better names, I bore the ship straight ahead.  When I got there, it was of course closed down.  Nowhere did it say, but I suspected it was just for the winter, even though it felt a lot warmer.  But the trees and the rest of the land told a different story, with their dead, decomposing leaves littering the forest floor, pale and barren trunks reaching high into the sky.  The sky too, was pale and emotionless, and I felt the stale death around me.  Even the pines were gangly, green, and ashamed among the earth it hadn't chosen, but was destined to spend countless years watching over, never resting.  Never sleeping a day till death, but being forced to watch as the others doze into the deepest of sleeps, only to return more beautiful than before.  I felt for these great pines.  The strong, but ever sad insomniacs who never complained, droning on and on without end.     I knew I was hours from the nearest town, and starving with no food.  But I checked anyways.  I checked all the compartments and crevices of the car looking for a candy bar or something that had fallen between the cracks.  In the dirt parking lot of the deserted park I did this.  I checked the trunk, and found what was to be the first of the coincidences that I later referred to as 'the buoys' of my later life.  It was the Spring jacket, and a fishing rod equipped with line, hook, and one of those fake worms,  that I'd long forgotten about.  It felt like I had no other choice.  Chance had left the rod and jacket behind, and steered me to this dead end.  It only seemed reasonable that since such chances had already happened, why should I expect it to stop now?      There was a large bulletin board with a map of the park at the end of the parking lot, and I decided it was the right time to finally change the plan, and take a look.  There was a lake near by, with a trail that opened up to the road inside the park just a small trek from where I was.  Were there fish here ?  In March?  Was I absolutely mad?  I knew I was mad and didn't care.  I laughed.  This was my daring, devilish side I used to ride day and night in the old days, but of course, didn't give the same feeling now.  No one was there to gasp or laugh with me.  No one but my comrade pines.     The trail was long, arduous, and mud ridden.  No scale was drawn on the map.  I had no idea how far it was.  It wasn't long till I was deep in the woods, the sparse, leafless tree trunks so numerous that I was surrounded in every direction as far as the eye could see.  All I had was a trail.  My stomach ached when I had gotten but a mile into the trail, but I knew there was no turning back now.  Everything from here on was meant to be.  Something or someone I felt, would be taking care of me if I couldn't.  Keeping in mind that I still was indifferent to death, something or someone, would be taking care of me because I couldn't.      I finally made it.  A rock-lined, dark blue lake lay just beyond the last hill.  Trees stretched all the way to the edge, and leaned over the water, ready to fall in.  I found the perfect place to sit, atop a rock that extended into the water, and made a ledge, straight down into what looked like deep water.  This was the type of rock I was looking for in the north.  I knew I had made it far enough north, I just happened to be in a large forest.  I cast in.  I waited.  I cast.  I waited.  I became agitated.  I grew displeased with the whole idea of fishing.  I was no longer hungry.  The hunger had moved to my head, and I knew this feeling.  By night the hunger would come back and be much worse, this time not going away.  I never caught a damn thing.  The whole time was a waste.  That's when it started to get dark.      It dawned on me that it wasn't summer, the sun wasn't going to hang in the sky till late, and it was about to get damn cold.  I grabbed my rod, turned around, and started jogging along the trail.  It got darker, and I ran faster.  I ran, and ran, eventually as fast as I could without tripping over roots and rocks and dents in the land, but it just got darker and darker.  Just when I thought that it couldn't possibly get darker, it did.  I had stopped running, and was walking slowly.  My eyes were adjusting as fast as they could to the dwindling light.  First I remember getting to this point where I could see just enough to stay on the path, then suddenly the picture I saw of the forest floor faded into a fuzzy blackness, then I'd blink, and see again.  It got worse, and the blackness came more frequently until all I could see was a fuzzy blur of dots of brown on black like when you shut your eyes real hard--until it hurts.  Dots appeared and disappeared and danced around and for the first time I knew what it was like to close my eyes, and open them up without knowing.     So I started going by my sense of touch, carefully sweeping my feet from side to side in front of me, feeling for the path, among the dead leaves and twigs, which was more difficult that I had imagined.  I was freezing.  I was lucky I'd grabbed the jacket, but my legs and feet were getting cold, not far from pain.  I kept up the sweeping of the feet, feeling the path.  I probably made it twenty feet before I no longer felt anything like the path.  I tried to trace my steps back to the path, thinking I had found it, then losing it, then finding it.  All this time, walking was slow.  Stumps and roots and leaves and twigs littered the small dips and bigger hills from which jagged rocks protruded.  I kept thinking I had found the path, then lost it, over and over again until I fell down a small hill only a few feet high, missing all the rocks, but throwing off any sense of direction I might have had.         I landed every foot with the greatest of thought --- every move calculated and executed with precision.  I pushed the pace to the end, as if it were for my life, inasmuch as it really was.  The sun had fallen as if it were to the ground, and what was left of the day had dissolved into a weak yellow shadow, leaving more quickly than it had come.  What was left had became a mess of breath and rocks rushing beneath, that swallowed my hope in its past ; the reality of unfathomable life.  Dusk bore its last warming and begot swirls of brown and black around me ; and night won, and was one, with me in its palm outstretched and glad.  It knew me well, though I -- I only knew its name.  It laughed, and loved, and gave to all -- indifferent to its closest friends, oldest foes, or anyone caught in its undertow.  To be loved like this by anyone else -- I would have cried.     One experienced -- might have been able to feel the way along the worn land that marked the path in the way I tried to do -- but I hadn't a clue.  Thinking I could see, and feel and follow what dull dusty forms in all their tanacity lived around me, I fumbled and fought and got nowhere.  At times, I felt here, then there, then up and down the path beckoned and I heard, and came along, till there before me sat a small revine no more than a few feet across and deep -- all that stood between me and home.  Feeling down with my foot, it was damp, and spongy and I knew it was meant to be jumped.  Unsure, looking from every angle and every set of eyes, I leaped with one leg outstretched long and felt no ground below me, and in a moment ingrained in my soul, realized all I'd felt and seen around me had been a lie. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, July 3rd, 2004
9:47 am	The Sanctuary I'll keep it short. My life is complete. I am happy to be alive. I've conquered my fears, returned to my love, and I have no more worries. I want to proclaim it here in as many words as I have in my own mind but I'm afraid I'll mess it up. I can't convey this happiness in here. I don't want this medium to be the message. You'll just have to wait for the book. It shouldn't be a long wait. I've found the perfect ending to this book. It's nearly autobiographical. I'm ecstatic for this book... it's the best stuff I've ever written. The last 20 pages are going to be gold, I've got most of them done. Reading them over I'm afraid I'll lose the words' ink in my tears. It is so beautiful. But I can't tell too much. Even though I want to share every detail of this book... the ending, the themes, the meanings... everything that came together in a few hours on Thursday as my life changed and all the lose ends were tied. Five years, complete. But I can't. It will have to be read as a whole. I'm too anxious, which is why I've got to get down at least an entire first draft as soon as possible, so that I can share it with you all. I'll leave you with this happiness. Bryan: I have much to tell you. We must put aside some time to discuss many things. Perhaps fishing? I went back to IT --- you know where. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, June 13th, 2004
3:06 am	Lifeblood 71 Days until I can drink. (1 Comment |Comment on this)