I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer, the future's uncertain and the end is always near

What elevates us from our primitive selves is the ability to see beyond the self and recognize the Self. Well, there are other things involved, yes, but I'm just saying.

I'm about to establish a precedent. This post is going to be all over the map. It's the only way I'll make it through.

Prepare thy selves, as we are about to proceed on a twisty, but in the end completely satisfying, ride.

I think of Janelle when I hear and sing these lyrics: Wide eyed walker/Do not wander/Do not wander through the dawn. Not because of the lyrics, but because I have fond memories of singing along to it with her.

Speaking of Fleet Foxes, I've concluded their music sounds the best to me in autumn. By gum, they are a fantastic band, but when the leaves are falling...

Occupy Wall Street is the flowering of humanity. Not just before our eyes, but from within us all. I say that with certainty and don't give a wit whether it comes off sounding pie-in-the-sky. The Apocalypse approaches and not, I don't believe, in the guise of destroyer. Here's the definition of Apocalypse: An Apocalypse (Greek: ἀποκάλυψις apokálypsis</i>; "lifting of the veil" or "revelation") is a disclosure of something hidden from the majority of mankind in an era dominated by falsehood and misconception, i.e. the veil to be lifted.

The veil is lifting. Shadows are shrinking. I am happy to be alive.

I wish I could figure out a way to stop saying "Bless you" every time someone sneezes without hurting their feelings and coming off like an uncaring prick. That little piece of etiquette, like so many others, is just fucking insane. Really, it is. It's right out of the OCD handbook, to begin with. And, I'm sorry, but the whole concept of needing to bless someone when they sneeze should have been left back in the Middle Ages where it belonged.

I think I'll watch the rest of Andrei Rublev tonight. Despite the fact that I've found it to be engaging, I've fallen asleep during it twice already. Is that a paradox? Anyway, I'm thinking about applying a pair of jumper cables to my love cannon when I watch it tonight so I'll stay awake. I'm only thinking about it, mind you.

I had a good time at Tracy and Ray's the other night. It was great being around Faith and James, their young children. I rode in the roller coaster they made out of a cardboard box (The trick was to sit on the edge of couch and slide into the box. Your weight then spills you out onto the floor), and had countless staring matches with Faith (I usually suck at this game, but she always laughed before I did). And during the sublime dinner of Indian dishes, I had the two of them tickling and grabbing me from under the table. I suppose that was karma, because I used to be an under the table terror at family gatherings when I was a wee lad.

I might skip Andrei Rublev and watch The Scent of Green Papaya. Could it happen? I don't know. Why are you asking me? We'll see.

It won't be long before someone steals my ideas about how to capitalize on the Occupy movement. One could make some benjys releasing a single called "Roccupy Wall Street" or releasing a porn movie called "Fuck-upy Doll Street". Or something along those lines. Before you judge me on lack of creativity, know that I'm not looking for cred, I'm looking to GET PAID, son!

And looking to get laid. Just figured I'd throw the line out there. Never know, I may get a nibble.

With that, I will venture off to something terribly fascinating. Mind the store while I'm gone.