Best Month-long Holiday Ever

Sure, it's Halloween, but what I'm really excited about is that it's the eve of a little thing called No-Shave November. It's pretty self-explanatory, and the reason I like it is that it gives me a great excuse to grow a sweet beard without getting yelled at (too much) by those who have to look at me every day (you know who you are).

Beautiful, right? So that's me, taken just seconds ago after my last shave until December 1st--for anyone who didn't know what I looked like, I'm sorry to ruin the mystery, but I'm glad you find me sexually attractive. I'll take a picture every day for my own records, but I won't post all of them because seriously I'm already self-absorbed enough as it is; but I will show you how I'm lookin' halfway through and at the end, before I get an expensive haircut/hot shave (I'll see if I can find a barbershop on Fleet Street 'cause I'm a dork) and look more like a normal person.

I encourage all of my male companions (wait, that came out wrong (wait, I'm not coming out)) to join me in the best month-long holiday this side of Ramadan.

Peace,

Adam

Empty Sky

Trudging alone on a cobblestone path, looking ahead, I noticed the sky loom from up above, vacant of presence, utterly empty. Only a light blue nothingness stretched out forever, and under its enormous weight I crumpled to the ground like a lost child whimpering for impossible salvation. A cold wind blew past from nowhere and everywhere, and all sense of bearing and comfort and familiarity, any last feeling of significance, evaporated from my body, spilling all around and drifting off in the ubiquitous gusts.

Fuck you guys

hhjkbgfryyvsrgtjbhikioojsjs0s.iuydyddyuuhyuujvvjvvvdjgbh223O£££@Y!UHB%III%imimio

Stuck

Feeling stuck, gotta push through. There's too much I want to do to not do anything, which is why right after I write this blog I'm gonna start doing things, like I keep saying I'm going to and which I keep not doing. I don't like being a flake because I dislike people who are flakes and I'd have a hard time putting up with myself if I disliked me.

Anyway, it's not so hard to become unstuck, usually it just takes a little motivation and a lot of watching youtube videos, and I've already accomplished one of the two, if you can guess which, so I'm nearly ready for action.

In case anyone was wondering, London continues to provide me with plenty of inspiration that I continue to do very little with. Hopefully I can swing it around this week. That's the goal. Goals are good. They keep you moving which prevents you from keeping stuck.

Good Mood

I love TV. And all-you-can-eat pizza, and living on my own, and drinking tea, and feeling optimistic, and twirling my long hair, thinking about how long it is going to be until I next get a haircut.

Wrong Dreams, Questions

He watched the self-destruction of everyone he knew crumble and smoke and erupt around him, and he tried his hardest not to question his dreams, too. Don't ask questions, he told himself, and upon thinking this mantra over in his head and realizing that questions are of ultimate importance in the world, he decided that it was still better not to ask them, because you probably don't want to know the answer anyway. Besides, everything's a bit easier with a goal in sight, and if you start asking all these questions about the meaning of the goal, or its worth, or your worth, what good does that do you? You'd have to start all over with finding a path, discovering what you like and who you are, and what you want to become and why, and all those bothersome tasks that he had already accomplished en route to his dreams. To uproot these ideals at this stage in the game would be preposterous, especially with all his friends collapsing on top of themselves at the alarming rate at which they were doing so. He decided to remain steadfast, even if he was maybe dreaming the wrong thing, because succeeding in the wrong thing, he rationalized, is better than never achieving what you think the right thing is.

Leaving

Not the Havel play...but dear lord, if you ever have the chance to see it...make sure you smoke a lot of weed first because then you might get it. If not, just don't bother.

On that note, I am leaving Amsterdam. I had a great, relaxed trip and saw a lot of the city and chilled out with one of my best friends and a bunch of my other friends, and just generally enjoyed myself. More than I could've asked from a vacation, and it's not even over yet.

Next stop is Barcelona, and I'm hoping to take the laid back mentality of Amsterdam with me, just enjoy seeing the sights and sippin' the beers. Oh, also apparently we have free tickets to see a Hornets game, of all things. So I'm anticipating an excellent trip.

Wish me luck that I don't get stuck anywhere in any foreign country/airport security/any number of things that usually go wrong when you travel, and I'll hope for the best too. If all goes well I'll be back in London on Sunday, just in time to meet up with two of my OTHER very good friends from Seattle the following week. So basically, in case you were wondering...Europe is tiiiiiiiight. My life isn't so bad either. Yeah, you wish you were me. Yeah, I'm a douche. Don't care, because of the first thing. About you wishing you were me. Seriously though everyone who is reading this is my best friend.

Peace and Love,
Adam

More Lessons

He learned to take immense pleasure from every thought.

Wherever You Go

I am pleased to discover that Sunday brunch is universally enjoyed throughout the world.

Farewell, Blog Society

Off to foreign(er) countries for 10 days, so don't expect any blog posts, you avid blog readers. Because I'm sure so many of you hang on to every succulent slice of  knowledge and prose I post here. See if you can manage without me, which you probably can't. And I probably will post something occasionally because there's Internet everywhere these days (puh, can you believe the state of the world today?) but just don't count on it. Don't make your life revolve around my blog posts anymore, alright viewers? Because honestly I'm sick of it. And I can't stand the pressure. It gets tiresome. Seriously.

Peace out. And fuck off. Just kidding I love you. Don't stop reading my blog. Okay, bye.

Adam

Late Night Thinking

Two ideas that are exciting to think about are the future and prophets of God. Though unrelated in most other aspects, they both succeed in holding my interest exceedingly well.

Monologue That Most Likely Does Not Reflect The Views Of The Author-An Exploration In Character Development

There are two things that everybody in the fucking world is concerned with: money and love. That's what I want too because I'm just like everybody else in the fucking world. My ideal life involves me sitting around in a pile of money buying fucking eight-trillion dollar llama-skin assless chaps online while getting sucked off by my super hot model girlfriend who I'm deeply in love with. I think that's the picture that just about everyone has in their mind whenever you ask them "what do you want?"

The only problem is that's a steaming load of fucking idealistic bullshit, and if a guy like me ever had eight trillion dollars to spend on assless chaps then the world would be in a hell of a lot of trouble. So maybe it's good that most people never get what they want.

Problem of the Day

So many things to write down. Sadly most of them are critical analysis papers.

Clothes

All of her clothes fit today for no reason. She put them on and they slid effortlessly over her body, snugly but comfortably, like a minor miracle. She hadn't gained any weight to be held  tightly by her jeans nor lost any weight to hide nicely underneath her blouse. She weighed herself just in case, something she never did based on principle but she was curious so she allowed it this once.

No different. She shrugged to herself in the mirror. Stepping off the scale, she thought about all the little cliche things that people did that they figured other people didn't really do because they were cliche. Like weighing yourself on your scale and then shrugging. Or like rubbing your belly after a satisfying meal to indicate you are full. She often did that. But only when she was really satisfied.

Words

Sinister whisperings whistling listlessly,
As I listen wishfully from slithering dreams.

First Night

I've been eagerly awaiting your arrival for the last 26 years Raymond.

26 years is quite a long time to be eager, I replied, determined to match the wise man's languid disposition.

It had been a long day to say the least and my calves felt a little like ripping out of themselves and swallowing a bottle of illegal Mexican pain-killers with the intention of overdosing just to put themselves out of their misery.

This feeling was the aftermath of a strenuous three week hike, slightly impressive when observed objectively, though not as impressive as a grueling month-long hike would have been, which is easier to brag about to your drinking pals when you finally return home, if that happens at all.

At this point it made no difference that my name wasn't Raymond. It was better than my own name anyway. I didn't even think twice about who Raymond might actually be, which must have been a mistake on my part but at the time how was I to know better. That was the whole point of my visit in the first place--to know better. So I wasn't going to until I did. Looking back on it everything makes perfect sense. Mission accomplished.

He--the wise man that is--asked me what I expected now and I responded rather hastily that I half-expected him to stroke his long greying beard and serve me a tiny cup of steaming exotic tea and discuss philosophy long into the night until the stars twinkled brightly on the bare mountainside, and that he would laugh with me and trade stories, and I would soak up every ounce of information poured into my empty ear.

Upon hearing this the wise man scratched his chin thoughtfully, lulling me into a vacant gaze as I watched his hand cover each crag of his withered face.

I wonder where the tea is brewing? I thought, and just then

the wise man removed his hand from his face and abruptly smacked me across my own.

I have no beard, he said in his calm voice, and trudged off to bed. And that was my lesson the first night.

Fleeting Haiku

Tricky reasoning
Leaves me cold and often wet.
Who's wiser than whom?