Too Loud, Bullet Train:

   It's been a while since my last blog, and I know I said things would be back to normal around the Mimzeeum, but life's been getting in the way.  I started my summer jobs that don't pay, I've been searching for better, but it's not there...I live in a devil town.  And I've grown tired of holding this pose, but the sound of loneliness makes me happier. But what makes me happiest is waking up and knowing I am really no one.
   I wanted this blog to be magnanimous and read by tons of people.  And I'm thankful it's read at all.  Because my thoughts come from a well full of whiskey, dried up by straight edge tendencies.
   And I am nothing special at the end of every day... I don't subscribe to any label known to man.  I am a wandering lost soul... I'm looking for that happiness.  I can see traces of it floating on the breeze.  But I have to collapse to calm down.  Because my head is a heavy marionette, I'm worried I won't amount to anything.  I'm worried my dreams are too lofty, and that I'll end up giving up on this because no one will read, or I'll lose where I get my inspiration.
   Time is something vague, and it slips through my fingers like a thousand pieces of sand.  It's already April, and I see the Nuggets play the Lakers this Thursday.  This is the month I go East Coast Style for a few days and learn the air out there.  I'm so scared of the roaring aluminum tube death machine that weighs 40 tons and flies 40,000 feet in the air.
  But the wings will catch the sunlight over a cold Chicago sky. And my thoughts of New York are coming closer.
   There's a dream in my brain that just won't go away. And it's like the fault lines crossing the soil.  The future is so far away, and when it's in reach, it goes by so fast.  There's a reason its called the Past.  And the time now, in the seconds reading this, is like a gift.  That's why they call it the Present.  But I'm not giving you anything.  You're the ones giving me a purpose today.  Writing this here.  Blogging.  God I hope it never ends.  I hope it's worth you're time.
   I hope days and months and years from now, people will be talking about mimzee.  It seems too good to happen.  All of my dreams.  New York, here I come.  Maybe I'll find dreams and memories there worth bringing back to my landlocked blues. It's all so far away...
 

And the future hangs over our heads