shouts in the dark

I still love you you know

failures of the American Dream

I turn 34 in almost exactly one month. The thirties have not been a kind decade. I can already feel the strings of my body coming undone. The slow march towards death. I can feel my body becoming leathery and corpse-like. It has also been a decade of failed ambitions and unrealised dreams. I have no tangible accomplishments - nothing that doesn't exist as writing on paper.

The burdens of my student loans are starting to come to fruition. In total I owe nearly $300,000. Of those, about $60,000 are in private loans. The payments for these private loans have ballooned in the last month. Previously, they were about $160/month. But now they have increased to about $380/month. I do not have the money to pay these loans. In nearly a year of looking the best job I have been able to find is an adjunct teaching position.

This semester I will teach 6 classes and earn about $9,500 before taxes. After taxes this will net me about $7,600. The cost of rent and utilities will likely cost me about $800/month or $4000 for the semester. Other expenditures: food ($200/mo), transportation ($100/mo) and unexpected expenditures ($200/mo). This is another $2500. So in total, I'm looking at at least $6500 in costs for the semester. This leaves me with only a remaining $1100 in cash. If the rest is applied to the ballooned student loan payments (and assuming I don't have to make any payments on the federal loans Income Based Repayment) then I'd run out of cash in less than three months.

I have no options. Brazos Loan Servicing - the loan service that owns the private loans - has been completely unwilling to work with me. Their only options are a maximum one-year forbearance which I have already used. They will not restructure the loan in a income based scheme similar to the federal model. I have two options: pay, which I am unable to do for the reasons listed above, or go into default.

But again, I have not been able to find a job in nearly a year of looking. I should also mention that I am a bona fide patent attorney and I still cannot find a job. If I go into default I will also lose my license to practice law. The legal field is contracting. As a result, long-term internships have become the norm. Instead of paying new attorneys they are expected to enlist in indentured servitude for a period of time with the hope (but not the promise) of finally finding paid employment. One person I talked to said his sentence of enslavement lasted for two and a half years before he finally found a job.

So this is what I am stuck with. I can't accept slavery because by the time I will be able to buy my freedom I will have already defaulted on my loans several times over (with Brazos you default after 120 days of non-payment). As a result, I will lose my license, and then, never gain employment in the legal field. But at the same time I cannot obtain a paid legal position without first subjecting myself to slavery.

In total, I have five options - all unrealistic. Pay what they ask, go into default, become crippled, die or flee the country.

A couple of days ago I came home to my parents house to stay before the semester starts. Two days ago I discovered the problem with Brazos and their ballooned payments. Yesterday, after getting into a fight with my father about it all I needed some fresh air. I drove to the other side of the river - to a public park - their house sits on. My parents are successful, but not so successful that they can (or should) bail me out of this situation. I sat in this park and looked at their house - at their successes.

Leaving the park I drove to the neighborhood I was born in. A lower middle-class neighborhood surrounded by lower-class apartment complexes. We had lived in a quant one-story house. I walked along that block - remembering the things that had happened there until I was about 8. My parents were 25 when they bought that house. My mother was a nurse and my father a high school religion teacher. I am 33, a patent attorney with a MS in biology, and the best I can do is rent a room in one of the surrounding apartments.

From there I drove to the next house we had lived in. It was a large brick house in a upper-middle class neighborhood. This is where we lived for the remainder of my childhood until my mid-20s. When I became aware of my parents as independent beings they were 33 years old. This is how old I am now, and how old they were when they bought this house. For the remainder of my life I cannot imagine ever being able to afford to live in this neighborhood.

Finally, I drove home - to my parents new house in a lower-upper or better upper-middle neighborhood. Onto a beautiful house idyllically sitting on the water. A house they were able to obtain through their lifetime of successes in their late-50s.

I do not begrudge my parents their successes. They have certainly earned them. I simply lament my own failures, both professionally and as a person, as they are my basis of comparison.

Next month I turn 34. A year older than my parents were when I realised that they were persons separate than that of being my parents. At that time they were hitting their stride - three children, a nice home, and successful businesses. In comparison I have none of those things. No significant other, no property, and no job with long-term potential.  The things that I have are a failed attempt at higher education, solitude, and almost $300,000 in student loans that I have no realistic way of ever being able to pay off.

I am only 34, but I feel old and tired. I feel that it would be merciful if death came to me sooner than later.

Carpe diem?

It seems to me that it's a waste of time to make goals for oneself. That way there is no disappointment when those goals are never realised. I wish now that I'd lived a hedonistic lifestyle focused on minute-by-minute pleasure. It may not have lead to anything in the end, but this sure isn't either. At least then I'd have had more enjoyment out of life - even if ephemeral.

The present tense

I’m in the middle of a pretty serious mental breakdown. I’ve had some in the past, but this one has really made me feel the most… crazed.

For the last two weeks I’ve had the profound sense of loneliness. I’ve had no personal interaction on a physical level. I’ve “talked” to my roommates, but, as they are both declared introverts, it hasn’t been meaningful. It’s just been me and my mind.

Contrary to common belief I am not, myself, an introvert. I do not find personal satisfaction, nor am I recharged, by being alone. I might need some quiet alone time now and then, but I need to be around others far more often.

The thing is, I suffer from social anxiety. I start to feel more and more uncomfortable the more people I’m surrounded by in a social setting. It all becomes white noise, and I stop being able to hear others speak or engage in conversation. I retreat to the hollows of my own mind. What is strange however, is that I have no problem talking in front of a crowd. When they are there to listen the size of the crowd doesn’t bother me. It’s the chaos of mingling that does.

What I prefer are small social groups. A handful of people all there for each other. I need to be surrounded by this. For me, the situation that is ideal is when the friendship is about the group – as though we were all parts of an organic whole. But the key is that it’s small enough that everyone has to interact with each other. It can’t be so large that sub-groups will break off.

At a minimum I need some contact every couple of days. Unfortunately, this has been denied me for about two weeks now. It makes me feel very bad about myself. I’ve felt lonely the majority of my life. I’m almost always alone. I have no one to say “good night” to me, so I’m forced to say it to myself. You can only take so much of this before you start to reflect the situation onto yourself . I’m alone because I’m a bad person is the conclusion I invariable come to. This has instilled in me a rather deep seeded hatred for myself.

One of the problems is that I go through so many solitary periods that I tend to overreact or overstretch myself when I finally do get some interaction. This has the unfortunate reciprocal effect of turning people away and returning me to another period of aloneness.

But what can I do? I’m usually ravenous by the time a I receive more human interaction. I’ve become a starved and dehydrated animal. I’ve been denied a basic necessity – I can’t be reasonably expected to behave in a more restrained manner.

So I don’t expect any of this to change. It never has so far. Loneliness has been the rule, not the exception. I used to think that if I tried to make myself unemotional then it would help ease the feeling of suffering. But this did not work – I was dead on the outside, but very much alive inside. So the only conclusion I can come to now, is that I should destroy by Ego. I should have no personality and should think as little as possible.

It’s been a hard two weeks, and it’ll be at least another before it comes close to being ameliorated. My family is coming to town to go to a Phish concert (who goes to a Phish concert with their family?). I should be excited for this. It should be the release I need. But I’m not. I don’t expect to have a good time. I’m too drawn under. I need to feel normal before I can start to feel good.

July 4

I'm so unbearably lonely.

Spring cleaning

Damn, has it really been since August that I've written in here? Seems so. What's been going on universe? Me? Well, lessee. First, I passed the bar. So, yay, I'm bona fide. Although immediately after, I started to study for yet another exam (which I take in about a week and a half). Then about six weeks ago I moved to a large metropolitan city. I wasn't psyched about it at first. As far as big cities go I don't think it's terribly pretty. I also don't quite like it culturally as much as some of the other places I've been. But it grows on me. The more I'm here the more I like it. I have a nice house, in a nice part of town and Spring and sex are in the air.

So I suppose this is a little too New Age or too hippie, but I've lately taken to listening to "natural sounds" - hour long recordings of ocean waves, birds chirping, babbling brooks and tropical thunder storms. I listen to this whilst studying or walking around the city. It's super calming, and I really recommend it as a de-stressing tool. Also, crystals and magnets. It's proven science that they cure diseases. No, j/k but seriously, nature sounds are great - they help take your mind from the concrete jungle.

Today is 65 and really nice. Yesterday, I walked about 5 miles, and studied at the Portrait Gallery which is a decent art museum. It was my sister's birthday so afterwards we went and got sushi and then had drinks at this (unfortunately) dirty Irish pub. There's not supposed to be smoking in buildings here, but this place was thick with it. My lungs can feel it today. Walked around a bit today too. Really looking forward to the warmer weather staying so I can get back to running. Before I moved here I was doing about 4 or 5 miles a day (because I had a gym). I'm hoping to get back to that, but I hate running outside in the cold!

Funerals in Japan

Two things, one really quick.

Lately I've been having vivid olfactory dreams - dreams where I can smell things. The other night in a dream I could perfectly smell scallops simmering in melted butter. A few nights before that I could smell fresh eucalyptus. A few nights before that the sweet sweaty smell of sex.

I've really been interested in old Japanese movies lately. Movies about the lives of adults and the issues they have to deal with. Last week I watched Juzo Itami's The Funeral. You may recall this film because it's been remade twice - once as a British film and more recently as an American film. It's technically a comedy, but it's not terribly funny and what humour there is is awfully dry. It's terribly interesting though. Basically, it is about the death of the main character's father-in-law and all the things he must do in preperation as the new patriarch of the family. It's not sad though because even though the family clearly has it's issues they come together as a family. While watching it you get the feeling that the life of the son-in-law parallels that of the father-in-law thus completing the cycle of death and rebirth. Perhaps most interestingly, it shows the practices for modern, but traditional funerals in Japan. Traditionally, funerals in Japan are done under Buddhist rites. This is because in Buddhist death is seen as a natural, neutral to positive thing. However, in Shintoism death is an evil defiling thing. Consequently, Shinto funerals are eschewed in favour of Buddhist ones. Interestingly though, weddings are performed under Shinto rites. The film depicts the major rites from Buddhist monks chanting sutras, to lighting incense to the final cremation. It's a fantastic, but bitter-sweet film.

Tonight, by pure coincidence, I watched another Japanese film about death called Tokyo Story. Tokyo Story is ancient being released in 1953 (The Funeral was released in 1984). The story is about an old couple who live in a remote fishing town in south-western Japan who go to visit their adult children in Tokyo. You get the impression that they do no regularly see their children. Throughout the movie the children don't seem to have much time for their parents and pass off responsibility from one sibling to another. It's not that they do not care for their parents only that they are too busy with their professional lives. The only one who does seem to give them much attention is their daughter-in-law Noriko. While Noriko's husband - their son - died in WW2 eight years previously, she has not remarried and is very dedicated to them. When the parents get back to their home the mother becomes ill and dies shortly. Before she dies, however, their children are able to come and visit and be there for their mother's death. However, after her funeral (the ritual for which is the same in the film above) the children decide to take a train back to Tokyo that night. Only Noriko remains. I've really abridged the plot here pretty significantly, but I think those are the main details.

I've not mentioned it yet, but Tokyo Story is one of the most critically acclaimed films of all time. Watching it I can see exactly why that is. The brilliance of the film is that is shows a significant transition period in Japanese society. It's not that the children are entirely uncaring it's that modern life demands so much of their time and they have been swept up in it. Noriko says as much at the end of the film.

I think the two films are a great juxtaposition. In both, dysfunctional families come together, but in The Funeral the family uses the death as a way to bring themselves closer together, while in Tokyo Story the death shows just how fragmented the family really is. But perhaps those differences are a result of the times they happened in. Tokyo Story takes place during the reconstruction following WW2. The Funeral takes places during they heyday of Japan's economic dominance. Maybe by the time The Funeral takes place society had calmed down, was no longer in a transition period, and as a result, sufficiently caring for lost loved ones seemed obvious again.

A long sigh

Two days of 9 hrs of exams per day. Crossing fingers that I passed. Time to vacay for a few weeks.

A long string of dreams

My dreams have been completely bonkers over the last few weeks. Entirely too intense. Violence, arguments, fighting, crime, sex, murder, mayhem - ex-girlfriends, childhood friends, family members - regrets, fears, disappointments. It's gotten to the point where sleeping is as stressful as being awake.

Two days ago I dreamed that Jenny and I were walking on a long narrow peninsula-shaped beach. The sand was white, and the water pale green and opaque. She was wearing the same black board shorts she wore when we went to Busch Gardens, and a white T-shirt. But she was older than the 20 year-old Jenny I knew - she was the 33 year-old Jenny whose birthday was just a week ago. The beach was crowded, but we walked on. She turned around, and I gave her a kiss. In the dream I could feel the kiss - wet and slippery. It was opposite to the actual dry hard good bye kiss I gave to her years go. I hugged her just as tight though. I said, "I'm sorry you had to go away". I hadn't felt this intensity of regret and frustration over her in a decade.

Last night... and luckily I can barely remember it...

It started as an omniscient perspective dream - there were cops and a street bazaar - barbeque pits and balloons and smoke everywhere. It was a documentary, but one that I was experiencing first had. The cop was under suspicion of something, and I was observing all the scenes piecing together the truth for myself. But there was no truth. According to the rules of the documentary it was by definition inconclusive - no completely correct inference could be drawn.

The dream escalated and morphed into something different. All of the cops were in the first floor of a skyscraper. The walls were all glass. It was night time, and there were no lights on inside the building. The blue-black night sky, as deficient as it is, was the only source of light. I was observing from a small kitchen to the side. On a set of stairs I saw a victim. His mouth was bloody, and he pulled out a piece of bloodied flesh from his mouth. "That's the evidence right there!" someone shouted. "You should go turn that in". The bloodied man acquiesced. But when he got to the center of the middle of the lobby floor he stopped. There was a crowd of cops in the middle. One of them shouted, "He's coming inside! Everyone stand guard". A dark figure, shrouded in shadows, walked slowly and silently, like a phantom, through the front door. A gun fight erupted. I don't know what happened because the dream transformed again.

Now I was in a long hall. There were a few fluorescent lights, but it was mostly dusky and speckles of dust floated silently in the stuffy air. The walls were covered with pale brown carpeting, and were bare except for the few light fixtures. The hall was lined with rows of folding tables, and they were manned by college students promoting their various clubs, social events and causes. The hall was filled with people, all animated, all interacting with each other, but the sound was never more than a murmur. It sounded as though we were all under water.

I turned a corner and there was another hall. This one filled with glossy wooden tables and students sitting and studying. I wanted to be with them. I wanted a group to study with.

I moved on to another corridor. This one had restaurants in it. I stopped at a coffee bar. I was with a group of people. A bunch of short cute sorority girls with ironed hair and fake blonde highlights. They all wore white shorts and T-shirts. I got there before them so I had a coffee. But when they got there they said they were going to have lunch so I went up to the counter. I ordered a cappuccino and a ham sandwich. They handed me a paper cup, more bowl-shaped than cup-shaped. They indicated that I put it under a chrome machine on the counter a press which button I want. I did, and a glop of mushy coffee beans came out like soft-serve ice cream. I handed it back to them and they served me my cappuccino and sandwich. I walked around the coffee bar to a set of benches outside. I made small talk to the sorority girl walking with me. She has on a peach coloured shirt. When we got to the benches my brother called me from the distance - beckoning me to come.

The yard bottle-necked to the entrance of a cave. I went with my brother inside the cave. When I got inside it was the house of some wealthy family. It was decorated with thin carved wood furniture, rich brocades hung on the walls, and intricately woven carpets lined the floor. It was representative of some culture, but not a culture that existed outside of my dream. There was to be a religious ceremony of some sort, and my whole family was to attend. We all had to dress in traditional clothing. I put on this long, thick blue silk coat. I wrapped my hair around these sanded wooden stakes. It was painful. We walked out of the back of the house where there were tents arranged in an inverted U-shape. We walked to each tent and said hello to the people inside of them.

Then I got an email from a message board forum. It chastised me for not posting a thread properly. I had reposed something on request of one of my brothers, and the moderators were accusing me of stealing it and claiming something that belonged to someone else as my own. They all started shouting at me. They said, "You didn't follow proper procedure!" I was surrounded by people. They moved closer and closer in on me. All shouting. They finally consumed me in their wave. I woke up.

I didn't wake up in fright though. It wasn't like waking up from a nightmare where you suddenly wake up. I woke up calmly. It was as though my subconscious had decided that continued sleep was a bad thing, that it would be healthier psychologically if I woke up. It was protecting itself from anymore dreaming.

These are just two dreams. There have been many others lately, but they are all of the same quality and intensity. Once which I only now vaguely remember dealt with Sameer, an oval-shaped hotel encapsulated inside what I can only describe as a geodesic dome, and people studying on a terrace on the second floor. In another I was in a smallish glass building. Down the middle were two rows of tables. Flanking them were enormous bookshelves nearly as tall as the ceiling. I sat with these two girls and a guy. They all had thick dictionary-sized books stacked around them. I told them stories of my adventures whilst dissecting in Anatomy lab.

I think I could use a break.

Death, time travel, dolphins and June bugs

Several things.

Last night I looked in the mirror. A single long silver hair twinkled back at me. Then I saw my death. It wasn't the noble death I've hoped for; a death of my own choosing. It was a lonely, sad death. I saw the flesh rot from my skull. Only my eyes remained - blackened and shrived.

I watched Doctor Who after studying last night. I'm about half way through the Matt Smith episodes. Of all the super heroes I've seen over the years the Doctor is the one I identify best with. In this episode, Amy Pond - one of his companions - gets trapped in a different time stream than the Doctor. He is unable to find her until 36 years in the future. At the end they must choose which Amy to save - the young Amy who is first lost in the time stream or the later Amy who has been trapped there for 36 years. The later Amy does not want to give herself up for the younger Amy because it will mean that she will have never existed. So it made me think "if I could go back in time, even if it meant giving all all the experiences I've had until that point, and the version of myself that I currently am would never have existed?" Perhaps it's pessimistic, but I think I would. I can't think of anything so overwhelmingly good that's happened to me that I wouldn't go back if I had the chance. But when would I go to? That I couldn't decide upon.

Staring out of the window I saw a dolphin jump out of the river behind out house. At first I wasn't sure of what I saw. A black-grey thing came out of the water and glided back in a crescent shape. But then it came out again and I was sure. I ran outside, onto the pier, and sat down. But it didn't come up again.

Looking out of that same window, right now, there are literally hundreds, if not thousands, of June bugs swarming, flying whimsically mere inches off the ground. It's been like this for several days. Every couple of minutes one will fly into the window and bounce off. There are cicadas and dragon flies too.

Scrambled Eggs

Yesterday was a pretty bad day. It was on the list of worst days I've lived through. It was up there with first day of highschool, the day I decided to drop out of med school and the end of the semester spring before last. I've still not recovered from it. If I let myself I could stare at a wall all day and not even notice. I've cracked before, but never so thoroughly as this. I can barely articulate what's going on in my mind right now.

Letting the inner weaboo out

Been obsessed with Japanese music lately. In another life I'm sure I was a kabuki singer. I've always loved that style. One thing I've learned is that "timing" in Japanese music is done not by counts, but by breathing. That's why is sounds out of time by people who are not familiar with it. Think I'm going to dig pretty deep into Enka, a rather melodramatic form of popular music from the 1950s through the 1970s. Examples! OK back to studying

Takashi Hosokawa


Meiko Kaji

reaccuring dream

Maybe in addition to the other things I write about on here I should also use it as a dream journal? I have pretty vivid dreams. In a dream last night I had a daughter. This is a fairly regular theme. Normally they have dark-red and curly hair. They are also always daughters. I think these are strange concepts to reoccur. The daughters-only thing makes sense - it's God's revenge for all the terrible things I've thought, did or wanted to do to other men's daughters over the years. The curly red hair doesn't. I personally probably do not possess the genes necessary to produce red-haired children, and am not likely to reproduce with a woman who does either. So it's odd. Also, it's not ginger-red, but a dark-red. So anyway, me and my daughter - who is a newborn in this dream - and my whole family are taking an old wooden boat to the Arctic. We've decided to move there. There are shark monsters looking for us and we are trying to be quiet. At one point the sharks try to board out ship - covered in melting snow - but can't find us because we're locked in the hibernation chambers in a secret part of the ship. I'm on lookout for the sharks, and when they leave I go down to the chamber, pick up my daughter . . . and she throws up on me! The dream gets hazy from there...

long division

A few minutes ago I had a conversation about the evolution of my musical tastes. This "equation" just came to mind. Undoubedly there's a lot in the middle, but I tried to hit he big songs, the songs I remember liking in particular and in the style I mainly listened to.

[(early 1980s: Hank Williams - I Saw the Light) + (late 1980s: Beach Boys - Surfin' USA) + (early 1990s: Public Enemy - Can't Truss It) + (mid 1990's: Smashing Pumpkins - Today) + (mid-late 1990s: Fugazi - Bed for the Scraping) + (very late 1990s/early 2000s: ATB 9pm - Till I Come) + (mid 1990s/early-mid-late 2000s/always: Radiohead - 2 + 2 = 5) + (mid-late-2000s: Zero 7 - In the Waiting Line) + (early 2010s: Flying Lotus - Do the Astral Plane) = Me

i forgot

whilst posting the best few albums I've discovered in the last semester I somehow forgot two, one serious and the other silly.



PJ Harvey - Let England Shake

Dare I say she's the female Thom Yorke. Ms. Harvey's talent is pretty amazing. It's actually the first "guitar album" I've liked in a long while. I really like this album too. No, I love it. Every song on this album is stellar, as is the writing, lyrics, and arrangements. Speaking of lyrics, there are a few weirdly patriotic songs on here. It's almost uncomfortable? This I learned from referencing one of her lyrics: the word "corn" doesn't always refer to the yellow stuff also called maize. The term is generic for whatever staple crop comes from a certain area. So if they grow barley in Essex and rye in Northumberland, barley and rye are the "corn" from those areas, respectively. Neat. Taking your problems to the UN sometimes works....



La Roux - La Roux

Mainly a cheesy synth-pop album. Kinda "lesbianic" her schtick is gender ambiguity. Just good old fashioned major key radio friendly fare. That's OK sometimes. I discovered her because a DJ I like - Boy 8-bit - remixed one of her songs. Apparently she's fairly popular because I've heard her single a few times here and there. Bulletproof... I wish I was.

dollar bills

I wish I was rich. That way I could do lots of awesome things, help people and make them happy. This is the fantasy stuck in my head as I work right now.

something ephemeral

I have a summer job interview with Knowledge Ecology International - a DC based NGO that amongst other things tries to ensure drugs for developing nations. Cross your fingers for me please. That they wanted to talk to me and setting up the interview was established in about 10 hours. This time last night I had no idea they were interested. I fly back to Florida on Wednesday so I had to do it quick. Just got into DC about an hour ago. Four hour drive just for an interview!

So this post is "ephemeral" because it's about music - the blips and beeps of which are necessarily momentary. These are the best new albums I discovered just this semester. After writing this I discovered that all of them are electronic albums! I didn't mean to do that intentionally.... I guess I just listen to a lot of it.



Charanjit Singh: Ten Ragas to a Disco Beat. Many thanks to my former roommate and master DJ King Anne for recommending me this one. It's the best album I've heard not just this semester, but all year. It came out in 1982, but was mostly ignored until it was reissued a couple of years ago. All experimental electronic, each song is in a different mode of Indian Classical music. One of the albums I listened to on the drive up here today. Here's an example.



Radiohead: King of Limbs. Pip, pip, pip. What to say about this album? I still don't really know what I think about it. I've listened to it loads of times. It seems too short. But it's not really. Only 5 minutes shorter than most of their other albums. It's like it's a work in project... I dunno. But I really can't wait to see them in concert again. Here's one of the songs from the single that just came out a few weeks ago. Are they part of the album? I just don't know. Maybe they are tree limbs too.



Gold Panda: Lucky Shiner. An electronic musician out of England (actually all of them except the first are!) he came onto the scene last year. His schtick is old Indian and Japanese records that he dices and mixes. This is my favourite song on the album.



Four Tet: There is Love in You. Another British electronic artist. Four Tet's been out for a while. This is his newest record. I didn't think any of the particular songs was brilliant, but it's a good whole album and mixes really well with DJ sets. His Essential Mix last year may be the best one I've heard. Here's the last track on the album.



James Blake: James Blake. This may be the best new album of the year (out of England of course). In articles about him he's described as a "wunderkind" because he's so young yet making such great music. It's R&B dub-step if such a thing exists. The only problem with his music is that you can't really passivly listen to it. You need to pay attention. This is not the song I wanted to post - unfortunately it's not available online to listen.



Sun Glitters: Everything Could Be Fine. I literally discovered this just a couple of weeks ago. It'll easily become one of my most listened to albums of next semester. It's pretty bloody underground. It also just came out a couple of weeks ago. There's not a whole lot of information about it or the artist who made it. It sounds an awful lot like Burial. I would not be surprised in the least if it actually turn out to be Burial under a different name. Whoever it is it's known that he's out of the UK (I said they all were!). Here's a pretty tune.

holidays

The semester is over. It's been the most stressful and emotionally taxing one I've experienced in a while. Maybe ever. Don't know how'd I'd have made it without the lovely people who take the time out to say nice things to me. At least two weeks to do as much as nothing or things as I'd like.

scraping bones

I have a headache between the lobes of my brain. My eyes are itchy from the dusty air. There is a nagging ache in my spinalis. Eating is painful. I haven't properly slept in I really don't remember how long - probably a month at least. I lay down for hours tossing between my right and then left sides. I fluctuate between just sweating and having a chill. It's usually about 5am when I do finally get to sleep. Sleeping pills aren't really working anymore. I'm unable to take naps during the day. Primal sex is the only thought in my head. The smell of lust makes me thirsty. I have three more weeks of this. If I'm not already, I'm going to be a wreck when its all over.

tangerine

A couple of pictures of my tangerine sapling. It makes my porch smell nice.