Moving...a.k.a. there's no place like home

Here we go again. Jeannine and I lived in Berkeley for a couple of years... a couple of years ago. And now we are clicking our ruby slippers three times to return. We found a 2 bedroom house, which we shall share with our good friend Victoria. Our move in date is Saturday the 10th. I can't wait.

Living in a small town, uber-suburb, like Livermore can be like a tiger pacing the perimeter of it's cage. I'm sick of tearing my teeth into the carcass of dead beasts thrown at me... I want to finally hunt life for myself. So, moving out currently holds meaning for me that embodies a new life. I intend to see a new existance unfold before me. A bit dramatic? Sure, but mind you I've been drinking.

I'm ready to grow and act childish and selfish. Friends, art, music, dancing, nightlife... all this and more will ensue. Fuck the shit that comes with a safe and secure existance in a quaint lil' suburban town. I revel in a neighborhood where I must keep on my toes to save my ass. This current safety has dulled me to an undesireable extreme. Shoot me violently in the head before I fall back into this malaise. I want a wild existance where the strong survive and devour the weak. Oh, and not to mention, let me be rid of a time where I occupy a residence shared by my parents. Oh the humanity, I must escape or soon parish. . . and on that note I shall leave you all (um all of you being no one...'cause no one is reading my blogs, besides my sweet darling) for a smoke before bed.

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