This rain, this storm is amazing.  It's really stoking my creativity.  I must say I love it.. there is no feeling I love more than (perhaps being in love or going crazy) being in this page.. writing it.. building it, molding it.. shaping it.. making love to the page.  Like something sweeps through my head.. scanning all that I am, and squirting it onto the page.. a stream of ink from my soul..  I love it.  You ever get that feeling.. like you're doing exactly what you're meant to be doing in life?  Yeah, that's it.  It's so amazing.

Yeah.. it's never late enough here.  I was just discussing a difficult question with a friend of mine: If Chuck Norris fought Chuck Norris who would win?  That would be me.  Yes.. the lights go low, the roads turn dark.. the sky fills with stars.. but the night owls are busy.  This one is writing.  Poking and prodding random individuals over the inner webs..

If only sleep were unnecessary.. though, then think about all the weird fuckin dreams we'd be missing.  Seriously.. this storm is making sweet love to my soul.  Even if it's just heavy winds now.

Can you feel the moments passing as you read these words?  Can you feel life happening as you're right here right now reading this sentence and you're existing in the moment of reading it?  I can feel it right now, smoking my cheap Dominican cigarette, typing the words out one by one and another and another.  I'm right here, and it's happening.  I'm alive.

I'm alive.  And there is a sky right now, and streets and cars and buzzing gas pumps and screaming children in the McDonald's play lands.. it's all happening right now.  People are dying, people are being born.  Every moment.  Yes.. I'm here, we're here.  Is it good?  I think so.  You decide.

Moving on, I was just discussing my preferred method of death with an old friend of mine.  Allow me to explain.  Say.. you've got a high bridge over water, with thick trees on both sides.  And I'm headed down this road in a car, no seat belt on at say.. 60.. 70.. 80.. but not over 80.. I don't want it to be too quick.  And wham, nail the right side of the bridge, smash through the windshield.. go flying.  Really, flying.  Luckily, a tree would catch me, and yes, I would be hung like a fuckin Christmas ornament.  Impaled through the chest by a large branch.  Enough to crush in my chest, and I would hang there for a moment, just a few moments, and look down to see it.. And feel the giddy warmth through my chest, touch my own blood with my left hand ring finger, eyes wide.. And slump down, and die.

See that may be incredibly morbid, sure.  But I don't really take it seriously, and of course I wouldn't do it.  But it fascinates me.  Would that not be a beautiful death?  Yes, sure, in many or most schools of thought death is 'not to be joked about' it is 'very serious'  and I will no doubt have several friends messaging me after this post asking "Justin are you really ok? I mean reallllyyy ok?"  And before you ask, yes, I'm great.  I feel really good right now.  I must've hit a manic plus phase.  Hah!  "Justin you are an insane genius and I am slightly afraid of you."  Yeah, well that's your loss.  I'm not afraid to kick over a few taboos in pursuit of creativity.

Sure everything should be taken seriously.. but at the same time nothing should be taken seriously, and nothing should be off the table.  If you have an exception for me, I'd love to hear it. You could fall in love with me as much as I could fall in love with you.  And that's usually how it goes.  Or one less than the other.. or neither.

Alright.. I am very tired.  Things are blurring a bit.. but that's ok.  Must mean I've almost pushed past exhaustion to delirious.  Delirium is good, release of inhibitions, generally very strange mind-set, I've mentioned it before I'm sure.. hundreds of times.

Invisible readers.. lots of them, out there.. reading. and not telling me.  When I see 275 views in one day, and one comment.. oh, and three kudos.  I'm wondering.. who are these people.. What are they thinking?  What are they taking from what I say?  Does it really hit them?  Better question.. if and when I publish a book, will they buy it?  I will not get an answer to any of those questions.  These peepers.. voyeurs, and such, prefer to remain anonymous.  Though one time.. I faked my own suicide on my space, and a few of them came out of hiding to say a few words over my faustian grave, then I showed up again and half my friends deleted me.  I still laughed very hard.

My energy is intense, some can't really handle it.  That's fine.  More cake for me.  And I have this tendency to burn bridges and fuck up my life all the time, and make these very interesting mistakes that require a lot of duct tape.. It happens a lot.  I'm patching leaks while rocking the boat.  Contradiction, lots of it.  We're all full of it.  If someone declares 'I am not!'  They are.. dilluted, confused, delirious, or.. lying.

Golden rule, we are all saints and sinners. Though.. I don't like those terms with their attached religious connotations.. So, just.. forget the religious aspects to them.  'Amen' is simply a strong "I agree!"

It's getting light out now.. just barely.. That weird darkness that hangs just before the dawn.. like a heavy fog over nothingness.. like the world isn't quite there yet.  I'd prefer it stay dark, because.. once it gets light, I start to feel the press of society, and the normies next door telling me to shut the fuck up, turn off the confounded music and go to bed like a good American.  That just makes me sick.

But.. I am exhausted.  So this morning I will be a good American.  No promises on when I wake up, wherever I happen to wake up.. Or if I wake up.  Sweet dreams my friends.  Or good morning..? Good evening.. And of course, goodnight.