This Is Not An Exit

I knew my invitation would be indirectly declined. I was a fool to think otherwise. Although I was lucky enough to be in the company of good friends, they failed to take note of the empty chair beside me. Just as the curtains were opening and lights were dimming, I turned back to look at the doors. They were shut. I returned my attention to the screen where a bloody onslaught was about to mirror the one within. Oh well. Despite my ignored invitation, seeing American Psycho on the big screen is easily one of the coolest experiences ever. Hands down.

I have seven days off. Some might say that I'm on an involuntary vacation, perhaps a lay off. Voluntary or not, I'll gladly accept the coming days for which I haven't a single plan or obligation. More than likely I will spend the week ahead writing and running and singing and falling. Perhaps I'll just roam the streets aimlessly in desperate search for adventure.

Last night, I finally slept sound enough to dream. Too bad it was a nightmare.

I've reached the conclusion that I am much too selfish to be anything other than alone.

Someone told me the name of the rarest bird in the world. I have since forgotten it. I want to be the rarest bird in the world but I've got a long way to go.