Read this post to triphop, else you'll miss the point.

I sit here with Charles Schilling playing in the background, in a room lit only by the glow of a computer monitor.

Outside, there is a night yet again awaiting my return. So many things have happened in that night, so many brilliant and devestating things, and i can't help but smile.

Izmar, Tingling, begins playing on the radio... supremely appropriate to the feeling in the back of my head.

This life of mine, so little of it that everyone sees, and the parts they do see... i love it all. I love the world i live in, i love the friends i have, i love then enemies... well, thier place at least.

I am greatful i am an artist, that i have my thoughtful unsatisfied mind. I love this itch, this feeling like i have to be someplace, have to meet someone, have to create something...

I love puting on a black shirt and throwing my hair from my face. I love puting on the last coat of black nail polish. I love the last stroke of an unfinished peice of artwork. I love ten cigarettes put out in a mug. I love letting my coffee go cold. I love talking to canadians on the phone. I love being inspired by a good movie, a good song. I love climbing onto the roof. I love finding another way to do something just because.

My life is nothing to some people, it is a shell of what could be something else. Some people look into this world of mine, and gladly walk away. This place i am, where i come from, is not for everyone. This is exactly where i want to be... here in the arms of wonder, in the arms of simplicity. Its quiet here, its bold and beautiful and amazing... its the most intense feeling in the world, to just sit back with your shoulder to someone you care about and your eyes falling upon a scene unfamiliar, but just as much the same...

home.

(cue "Fresh Moods" - Decisions I Made)