the absence of capitals and excess of punctuation means i'm a poet;
self-taught (mostly made-up) yoga at night and long walks with anyone around the nice weather, feeling good about myself and almost-everything at least almost-all the time but inside my head is tangleweed, strangleweed, i can't think about the future or cause-and-effect, actions or consequences or all that comes after. the problem is in the past the future had so much promise and potential and now i sit on the back porch reading comics and smoking too-many cigarettes wondering how every road led here. i'm not really unhappy, i'm just not overwhelmed with joy (or tragedy, or any extreme of emotion outside of occassional annoyance) and that's a new feeling for me- sometimes it's hard not to miss the full spectrum. rollercoaster emotions give a (false) sense of adventure.