Perhaps without a concrete understanding of the fundamentals of power, I cannot withstand the onslaught of perpetual kisses being blown to me by agents of Third World countries. I try to follow the large clouds of transendence but always fall back into the ocean of senility, ending forever my frantic search for the fountain of youth.

Given a proper holiday, I would fantasize about exploring the jungles of those places where the rainforests are shrinking so rapidly. My skin would be glazed properly, my machete sharpened, and my polemics dampened. Heroics come easily to my dapper mentality, especially when I flex in the mirror.

I was a silly boy back when the rusty wagons rattled over the cracked sidewalks. The sun glinted off parked cars, and puppies wagged their tails. I was eventually stabbed by productive forces; my silliness bled out of my body. The pool it left shimmered brilliantly as I sunk into flourescence.

My strategy for escape has been two fold: run and hide. Run against the wind and hide in the crowd. The faces hide my self. My urge to urinate makes the crowd quiver. Talking stalls any notion of progress, so everyone smokes cigarettes.

Finally, I achieve liberation. No one notices my presence because I abstain from cash transactions. The only stipulation for my existence is invisibility.

Some nights, it’s better to stay away from the internet. I can’t believe how distraught I could become from (A) accidentally deleting a bunch of photos from my flickr account, and (B) having to delete a post from my blog because it contained one of the deleted photos from said account.

I think it’s a clear sign, although I will double check with Astrology.com to make sure, that I need to get back to writing screenplays. I had already decided, even before I wreaked havoc on my online life, to limit my blogging time in order to focus more on scripts.

Now it just seems stupid, but it bothers me nonetheless. I lost photos that had comments and one that was marked as a favorite. The order is all screwy as well.

And I’ve already spent way more time dealing with this, which means I’m not working on my screenplays. That’s it! Enough! [Looking for the web equivalent of slamming a door.]