Sadness. . .when we find pleasure in our own pain. It is anti-social. I am a miscreant. Morose and melancholy is fine, but when will the self-imposed suffering stop. This is positive week. Or positively weak. What is your white elephant?

Marcus is missed. He is slowly slipping into persona non grata. What can become of the lost when it is not the island of lost boys? Is Emily now employed? Hoping my hype and whatnots helped.

So, how far will the tattoo go? Creep onto my neck and threaten the public? I hope so, but maybe I could find regret in this.

How do we protect the children? How do we save our eternal soul? Is it the same question as paper or plastic? Probably plastic, when we think of the soul. When it burns it is fast and smells unnatural. What an Iowa like holiday. I wish I was in the mountains. Hoping for February, cutting some fine lines in the isoolation of sound and space. Cutting the 177 fast and low. No pass sucks. It really sucks. I am incomplete.

How much time has passed? Feverish for the snow--slave to the carve and the slide. Life sucks without snowboarding.

Tell me this is not upbeat?
Beggin for the tomorrow, and there is time.
W