Late Night.

I don't think words suffice right now.
Maybe kicking, screaming, dancing, crying, jumping on my bed, mourning, or bursting into jubilant song would.

Film has too great of an affect on me.

Saturday + Sunday= My Sabbath. An extended day of rest.

Oh hey Dane Jordan.
You should blog too.

The Gate.

I like being back and I like my friends a lot.

I am sorry, however, for the fact that I do believe I have gotten the big room in the apartment. It certainly was not my intention. If it is any compensation, a giant, insomniatic(?) bear-man lives directly above me. And in the middle of the night I can hear him wake up to relieve himself and then plop heavily back down onto his bed, which I believe, is directly above me.

It's going to take me a while to get used to the train again.

More Walty.

Why should I wish to see God better than this day?
I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then,
In the face of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass;
I find letters from God dropped in the street, and every one is signed by God's name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that others will punctually come forever and ever.

-Leaves of Grass, Walt Whitman.