The Sky Is Grey

And It's Been Raining All Day


I think it's probably time to organize some thoughts. Update since I've last written; I broke up with Ryan, but still decided to remain friends with him. I find it's positive, and he is less annoying in smaller doses. He still has a lot of growing up to do, and I need to stop waiting around for him to do it. I will still remain close with him, I'm sure.

I regret some of the things that I said about Greg. I hung out with Greg in Hartland again for the first time in a long time. We did some reminiscing, and I kind of realized how many good memories I'd been blocking out. I don't know why, but when Greg moved, It seemed like that whole phase of my life moved with him. And I liked it. But what I failed to realize is that even though Greg is no longer a part of my life like he used to be, He'll always be a part of my life. He is one of my closest friends, and we have a lot of issues, most of which remain undiscussed, but maybe they don't need to be discussed. Maybe it's time that I finally bit the bullet and just let go of all the shit I've been keeping in. It doesn't matter on a larger scale anyway.


Which leads me to the big idea here. The larger scale. Ah, the ever-present existential issue. Do I matter? What difference can I make? Even if I change every person on this planet for the better, is it even for anything? Or are we just machines put here to work out and terminate? I suppose I would have no way of being disappointed if that happened when I died. But I have an entire lifetime ahead of me to be dissapointed that everything I do, everything that makes me feel good about myself, none of it matters, because I am a machine. My theory on religion up until recently has been this; We know that the brain controls the body through chemical releases and eletromagnetic signals. What no one has yet to explain, is what controls what the release of what at what time. Some stimuli produce certain effects, but these effects are different on every person. So my theory was that there was a "soul" controlling the concious thoughts, and that the release of hormones and signals was to tell the body what the soul was feeling. Therefore, you don't feel sad because of a lack of dopomine in your brain, you lack dopomine in your brain because you are sad. the hormones and signals are not the cause of feelings, but the effect. A way of reading them.

It barely makes sence in my mind, but grasping, it does.


Then I came to a bitter realization. The only reason I believe that I must be more than a machine, is because I WANT to be more than a machine. If I just accepted that I was a machine, nothing that I did would matter. For it's own survival and development, my body prevents me from accepting my iminant fate, because without purpose I will cease to exist. Humans believe in something else out of necessity. Survival instinct. A sense of faith. The Higherarchy of needs. Food. Water. Shelter. Purpose.


Why am I here? No one will ever know. Never.


And that is the thought that haunts me, and wakes me up in the night. I am nothing. And i can't stand the thought of that.




On a Completely lighter note, just to clear some air.




Conversations with Courtney

My friend Courtney and I have a way of communicating things to eachother without using words. We speak without speaking. But sometimes, we even take it a step beyond that. We communicate with words that we make up. Or by repeating different phrases with different inflections.



I light my cigarette, and roll down my window. We make our way down a dirt road, driving without destination. It's a common thing between me and courtney. We're roamers. We just like to be in motion. We enjoy our shell in her car. A cocoon for us to seperate ourselves from the world with a pane of glass. To create our own atmosphere, in which we control the weather, sights, and sounds. At this moment, our prefered environment is silence. Each of us left to our own thought. A lot of people feel the need to fill air with meaningless words. I prefer that we take the time to think. It's ok for people to just think together.


Out of the sonic darkness, a light in the form of Courtney's voice appears on the horizon.
"Describe this in one word."


"Dude," I say."Fuck.



"Fuck, Dude"


"Dude"

"Fuuuck"


"Dude!"

"Fuck."


"Dude Fuck. Dude... Fuck!"

"Dude, fuck!"


"Dude... fuck."


Then we giggle thrice in unison, and move on to the next topic of conversation. We do not address the fact that it is abnormal to have effectively communicated with eachother by repeating two words in a cycle. We accept what happed as real, and we move on. We knew what eachother meant. We understood eachother, and no one else would ever have a clue what had just happened. We Communicated. It was as simple as that.









The End...For now



















K. I should get some sleep, I open tomorrow morning.




Cole