How has it been?

After thinking very hard about my direction I came briefly to the conclusion that the need for direction is impeding me. I need not have an objective. I have my investments to keep me financially secure and I know I am capable of keeping myself fed and housed. I no longer care for a career or for accolades. They would be nice, of course. A lot of things would be nice. I just really don't care about a lot of things. I am ambivalent.

There is something that I want to do, but because I really want to do it, I won't be writing it down here. That may seem backwards from how it works for most people, but it is forwards for me. I have thought about joining the military. Tomorrow morning is a Wednesday morning, which I have off. I think I should go and do something tomorrow. I should go and get supplies for this or the other or I should do some laundry (Well, if I'm going to do laundry I should do it now) or I should go to the recruiter's office with my negotiating face.

I got a third goal to my life the other day. They now number three:

1. Locate and acquire my Special Person

2. Drop acid

3. Eat absurdly expensive fancy food, presumably by being rich

For posterity, let me tell you about my chess game with Wallsnake. I took black and spread my pieces thin, only one layer of retaliation if that, and a very dispersed sort of pressure. She turtled about her king and lined her rook up behind her queen to punch through my thin lines and make my king dance. She took her time about it, getting everything lined up just right, and finally went in. I castled. It took my king out of check and put her queen in danger. She panicked and started disassembling her offensive in the wrong order, leaving things unprotected, and I got three big pieces in the next three moves. I got a rook behind her, pushed my pawns up in the king's face, slid my queen to the side and came out with a surprise bishop for checkmate a few moves later. If dating were remotely like chess I would be such a player. As it is, she seemed nonplussed by my victory, going to bed very quickly. This is in contrast to the numerous positive signs I have been receiving from her lately: enthusiastic hugs, sharing an umbrella, and slipping a flyer into my back pocket. The situation puzzles me, and it probably puzzles her as well. I can be inscrutable.

I've just remembered: I need to Facebook stalk that young woman from my lab class. She's mild in the face but a good size and an excellent dresser. Today she wore a black-and-purple striped button-down shirt with short sleeves terminating in buttoned cuffs. She also wore earrings; it's unusual for people to dress so well for class, but she seems to do so often. Maybe she goes to the Engineers Without Borders meeting right after. But these are the sorts of questions that need not go unanswered, thanks to Facebook.

Ugh. Wallsnake is so bourgeoisie. I worry that my pretensions will cause conflict. I shouldn't worry. I should let it go.

Maybe I will exercise tomorrow morning. Ha! That's the sort of threat that will get me out running an errand. I wish I hadn't stopped writing. I feel so insecure about it now because I wrote about silly things. I still write about silly things, I suppose, but I do it in a very serious way. I so want to trip. I want to see whether Logic Man will keep his grip when it all begins to float away. His grip is iron, I know from the mushrooms. Even when the walls began gently to ripple he imposed an impeccable politeness. We walked, we talked, we gave an informative and concise critique of two samples of potato salad. We waited until asked and we kept our remarks to one sentence in length. We were most excellently composed. Logic Man, [my name] and the little ones do so need more time apart. We all enjoyed it; even Logic Man, though he can hardly be said to enjoy anything, exulted in his ability to maintain control in the face of psychedelics. And I hadn't known about the little ones before. They are harmless and very amusing. But enough of that. The shipment is overdue and I anticipate its arrival very much.

I have considered becoming a drug dealer; not just a dealer, but a lord. I am a very intelligent person; it would be the sort of challenge of which I consider myself worthy. Often criminals are uneducated, stupid men who can do no other work. I would be a mind to make the FBI run in circles. I would so enjoy playing with them; I know that it is a game that I could never win, but there are some games that are played for the thrill of playing.

I love camembert so much. I have made myself very slightly ill on it; a fullness which is only the slightest bit past contentment. I got a loaf of rye first, but the bitterness of it annihilated the cheese's flavor; the italian does much better. My first attempt at my own alfredo sauce did not go well; I used powdered Parmesan instead of of grated, and it kept its gritty texture rather than melting. We learn.

I do so miss my special person. And I do so want to trip. And when I am no longer ill I will so want that delicious food. Three is, I think, an excellent number for prime objectives. There is no need to be excessively complex. I am a very small thing. I may be a very simple thing, though I do not presume to say.

I have gone and made myself melancholy. And angry. I must decide what I will do tomorrow. Leaf or tree or leather or water? Or even darkness? Or dimness? When the time comes I will shun it all; that is why I must resolve now to go out and meet it.

I know what I will do! And I will do it now! It is a thing I have wanted to do and now I will do it.