This picture has changed my life.

All sight of that little human hearkens back to an age of sweetness.

Of course, those ages are dead; or at the very least: sleeping in a coma from which there will be no recovery.

The time is approaching quickly for my departure.

Arrival site: Bushwick. Bushes made of wicks. Good for evening light shows and arson festivals.

I've reached a few conclusions concerning life:

alpha. All goodwill enacted by humankind stems from a recession of our natural behaviors. This much seems obvious to me, but I guess I'd never thought about it. We must break these chains of mammalian servitude.

beta. All money is, by nature, a current in a flowing stream. Nothing we possess is truly ours. As I was taught in middle school, the Native Americans could not understand the obsession of the colonists with the acquisition of land; according to my education, these Americans viewed the use of land as a temporal "loanship", and the idea of "real estate" as being quite a titan to wrap one's mind around. This could all be wrong- blame the enduring myths of modern times.

gamma. I've noticed that the closer the date of the move nears, the more distant all of us have become in deed and action. I do not mean this as a hard rule, but it would seem logical that one's affairs must be taken care of; additionally, a person that is preparing to leave permanently should relish the time that they could spend with those that will soon be far. Affection is frozen in time, with the afterimage of last meetings persisting in the minds and hearts of the ones you love. This is a sweet thing. At the same time, I worry that such separation could cause tensions when proximity is an issue. Of course, this is a general thought: I have a great deal of confidence in the choices made, and the great men of valor chosen to partake in this project.

delta. Every sad sight of roadkill deserves a proper burial. A particular kitten is calling to me for this obligation; may he rest in peace.

On my mind:
Corporal Scorpion.
Techno Viking.
A sugary Noo.
Striped sweaters and the men who love them.
Customizable candlesticks and the cousins who crave them.
The lovely Laura and her edible escapades.
The Manhattan Bridge.
The nearness and dearness of Julie.
That most venerable vista, amongst the various snakes and spiders which have previously been unknown to mankind.
Father Spiro.

All that which can be, will be missed. And all that which will be given new meaning shall have new meaning.

I hope the Christmas proved to be the beneficent holiday that it should be, however it is that you see it.

I've found my gaze locked onto this text-covered lightbulb for the past week. This machine sucks dry any potential for daily growth or progress. In short: this computer is killing my time much too efficiently.

There's a few causes, there:

A.) My place of business (Anthos), in sudden fashion, decided to close down. As it logically follows, this means that I am without job; i.e.  jobless, unemployed. In hindsight, there were a few conspicuous signs which should have hinted towards this end. The pieces of the puzzle seem to arrange themselves clearly now. So off I am, to find a place where my skill can be exercised for the next 3 months or so, until The Journey takes place.

B.) I like stimulating the mind quite a bit; far beyond any sort of physical stimulation. Therefore, I often find myself addictively browsing through new images, artworks, writings and sounds, in an effort to cause the itchiest little sectors of my brain to grow with great force and bounty. Hopefully, my mind will have more color with which to paint when the time comes, because I think my sedentary habit has brought me up by about 10 pounds.

C.) Being a lazy descendant of those siesta-loving individuals from the Old World, I often find myself attempting to justify my non-activity. With the break from scholastics and now employment, there are very few imperative reasons to leave the house. As it is, I can get most of my interests fulfilled without taking on the burdens of "shaving", "dressing myself", and "interacting with Hu-mans".

In any case, I've been making resolutions throughout the day today to break the vicious cycle. It's likely that I'll find myself running through the fog of dawn in repentance, assuming, of course, that my consciousness can even tarry for that much longer (because at this time, any sort of light "nap" would undoubtedly transform into a full-fledged, 13-hour sleep extravaganza). At least, it seems, I go places in my dreams.

Initiation.

Quetzacoatl.

Soy and tomatoes.