I’ve decided to take off the clothes that represented the thought “I don’t want to die” and put on the clothes that represent the thought “I want to live.”

Saying “I don’t want to die” was, to me, as much about saying nothing as it was about saying I didn’t want offspring to carry on part of my genetic structure.

Saying “I want to live” is, to me, as much about saying nothing as it is about saying I want offspring to carry on part of my genetic structure.

Am I parroting parody or parodying parody?

Is my tie-dye fit to be tied?

Am I tired of hiding in suburban housing estates?

Does what I have in these thoughts that find their way past the physical barrier of skin stretched across the end of my fingers have any value that could/would/should support progeny in their unprotected infancy/youth?

Do I have the patience to put up with others’ ignorance?

I’m certainly tired of the life of the desk jockey crammed in with a bunch of other self-absorbed cubists.

What other hobbies/occupations provide a way for me to support myself?

After all, playing the stock market is about as exciting as filing my nails.

I simply have no burning desire for hordes of cash or cash equivalents.

My habit is live/observe/write.

Where does a habit like that fit in with the rest of the random socioeconomic interactions?

How do I wrap the pretend bow of ORIGINALITY around something that profits me and others in a future-enhancing method?

How do I maintain an interest in any one subject for very long?

Watch my alma mater go up and down the court…

…then…

watch the weather for a while.

Life goes on.