I'm encouraged by all the people who are ready to keep fighting for the future. It's the right idea, I think, because if too many of us quit and the country goes down the shitter it won't matter where you live. If the US goes down in a blaze of facistic hegimon glory, she'll take a fuckload of other nations and people with her. We'd all like to retire to the shire, but it's not a realistic option, especially if you think about having kids.

That's a dark train of thought, but it's where my head goes sometimes these days. I'm struggling. The most important thing is to stop stuggling. My campaign is over. Halfway around the world 10,000 Marines are getting ready to storm a hostile city. Life will go on for me and hopefully most of them. Ugh. It's bad.

I think "emotionally fragile" is the term for my current state of mind, body and soul. Wild mood swings; ups and downs. The other night walking the dark wooded street in Berkeley, watching airplains make their slow arcs and listening to Tom Waits sing about the Heart of Saturday Night was a moment of deep dispair, almost cosmic and transcendent sorrow. Today walking from Valencia Cycles to the bank backed by Toots and 54-46 (that's my number) I had bounce and humor. So it goes.

Art, man. Art! How fucking long has it been since I made art? Too long. Art and love, yeah... but we don't talk a lot about the latter. Been kinda keeping that on the back burner for some time now. Easier that way. I don't know whether or not to believe in sexual healing, but I sure as hell have that feeling. Not that there's a damn thing I can do about it, but there it is.

I don't know where to turn or which way to go. Politics isn't much of a crisis to be honest with you -- I see the way forward there -- but that's no longer such a big deal, no longer a central organizing principle of my existence. With more time to myself, I'm confronted with all I've neglected. So much has fallen by the wayside in the past year, I find myself now looking out over barren territory, lacking in purpose, connection, meaning.

I hit up friendster tonight and in the random gallery clickthrough I realized I already knew two of the girls who I thought were cute on the first page that came up, and then I found out I'm connected to the girl I made out with in Boston through Ben Newman and PeeWee Herman. Oh man. It's that kind of night.

So tell me, oh wise one; what does an outlandish young man do in these times, when he feels beaten, old, confused... I'm open to suggestions. I'm already headed back to NYC for a spell, so that might charge me up a little. But really; if you know any good books, movies, CDs, restaurants, vistas, or hangouts, I'm all ears.