But planes land and so do I, and suns rise, melting away the grounds cool protection. I am finally free, if only for this moment. And should that be the case, then know that I am throwing a parade in first class as I speak. Art has again saved my life, my love and me. What next? Who really cares? Certainly a toast will be in order. Make mine a double.

I consider myself a person like everyone else, and I take my time writing my records because I feel like it captures more of who I am. You have a much greater chance of hitting on themes and points...that could play into someone else's life in a larger way.

And seemingly as winter has become spring, confusion has become insight.

It's your 21st birthday... What are you doing sober at the front row of a concert? Is it your 21st birthday? By the end of the night I promise... we will get you drunk, my friend.

I like to watch people have fun and then trip them while they're doing so.

Suddenly it makes sense again. In no haze of mindfulness, staring down at this snow-covered quilt of America, I am the stars exploding. Voice shot down to hell, half sick, half recovered, alive and well and ready. The unknown for now will remain as such and in this moment that feeling is not one of suspension. It is the hopeful unknown. Reaching into the future could only be good now as the past is wrapping itself in ribbons and pleasant packing paper, rarely to be revisited.

The whole world, myself included, seem to have one thing in common; we're just a crowd of people who don't really fit in anywhere attempting to convince one another that we do. I guess I'll put my sunglasses on and pretend, like everyone else, that I too belong here.