Godel - 10:52 p.m. , 2009-03-22 awake - 8:31 p.m. , 2008-08-20 Auspicious Omens - 3:06 p.m. , 2007-07-19 the never - 12:03 p.m. , 2007-07-18 vbs - 855788 , dfbhhj the dark wind of existentialism blows through my soul! today i noticed that i always seem to be going somewhere at twilight with nick. tonight, it was the comic book store. last saturday, the comic book store. the saturday before that, the comic book store, and then Best Buy. what is the poetic significance of these twilight journeys with my son? is it that he is in the twilight of his childhood, the final hours of the golden light? what is out there, waiting in the darkness? fear. fear awaits us all. the soul-twisting fear that we have wasted precious moments, that we have squandered what little we have, that we have failed to appreciate what means the most; that we have turned our backs to love. i'm talking the nameless dread that ices the bones at 3am awakenings, sleep-destroying fear. i'm talking about the personal hell of our own spiritual penury, our cold-heartedness. it's best to skirt these known precipices, erect signs: "Here There Be Monsters" just because there are wastelands inside our spirit doesn't mean we have to live there.
here there be monsters
Main Entry: plas�tic�i�ty
Pronunciation: pla-'sti-s&-tE
Function: noun
Date: circa 1783
1 : the quality or state of being plastic; especially : capacity for being molded or altered
2 : the ability to retain a shape attained by pressure deformation
3 : the capacity of organisms with the same genotype to vary in developmental pattern, in phenotype, or in behavior according to varying environmental conditions
NOOER
wicked old stuff