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.

The present's just a pleasant interruption to the past.

With each new day it becomes more apparent to me that everything and everyone in this world is connected in some beautiful and inexplicable way, and the more I accept that, the more my world seems to come together.

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.

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 swear to much for this to be a television special. Did you guys ever have your mouth washed out with soap? My mom did that to me a lot. I think I swear more because of it. I started liking the taste of soap, I would eat it just to spite her. (pause) I'd bite off bars of soap.

If you can drink beer while doing it, it's not a sport