• I’m unwilling to let go of myself for others and I’m also unwilling to let go of my need for the world outside myself. There’s a balance often struck, but every road I take to find it leads to me having to choose.
  • I used to look out at the city and see a vast sea of possibility. Tonight I looked off a highway footbridge and saw a vast wasteland of human potential, and I shouted “fucking trash city!” at the pavement, but no one was there to hear me.
  • There’s nothing keeping me here, but nothing forcing me to leave. My entire life is a default, and can be summed up with the phrase, “for lack of a better reason…” I’m in Minneapolis for the same reason why I’m alive: it’s what was granted me and I haven’t had the balls to change it.
  • I walked into an alley tonight, drifting towards the skyline, and I was confronted with a fence. Instead of walking all the way back, I chose to jump the fence. As the nearly empty flask of whiskey + vermouth in my back pocket could have predicted, it was not a good idea. Acrobatics aside, the bottle did not break and I left Stevens Square laughing.
  • I keep telling myself that I have a CD to finish, and when it’s done I can move on with my life. It’s the only thing keeping me going. The last time I had this much of myself riding on a creative project, it wasn’t pretty, and I topped off my 22nd birthday by collapsing in someone else’s yard in the pouring rain, convinced that I had just wasted 22 years. I’m really afraid that in September I might get to the point where I’m convinced that I just wasted 30.