Autumnal fun.

I have the feeling that if our asshole forefathers hadn't landed at Plymouth, we'd still have some kind of goddamn festival about this time of year.

Get the fuck back, Hulk.

Carving pumpkins, and shit.

It's so easy to love them unconditionally when the bastards are sleeping.

So, if you know who I am, you know that I have been battling with the existential crises of who the fuck I am and where I am going and why the fuck it all matters. It has been especially tough this time. Sure, we had an unusually gorgeous summer and fall and there's all this natural chaotic beauty around you and you just feel so fucking insignificant and all the while there is the nagging, "Yeah so what?" with it and you just want to forget.

I know why those motherfuckers say that ignorance is bliss.

Sometimes, I like to lie on the floor and just look at the ceiling and fucking sit there. I don't really know what it accomplishes but if I don't get to do it, I feel like balls.

Did I tell you that things are up in the air again? They are.