Four years ago this month I started on this little website and so to celebrate, I bought a year's membership.

What can I say? I've missed it.

Just realized I'm at a ridiculous amount of websites. Don't be angry if I don't update too often. I promise when I do it will be profound.

Or profane.

Never professional.

Frustrated.

Want to write, but the current driving feeling is sloth.

Think I'm coming down with something.

Kittens screaming for attention at my feet.

Is it wrong to step down hard to relieve stress?

I'm BACK!

I'm going to be leaving soon. I'm not exactly sure how long I'll be gone. My membership is going to be up soon and I'll have to pay a full year. This is something i just can't do right now. I'm not even sure I WANT to commit to montly payments.

I don't know.

See you later, guys.

Fuck, I haven't posted in a while. That's because for the last few months, I've done nothing but slowly stalk this site, keeping my distance and only taking peeks inside when I need to ejaculate over pretty girls with piercings and take pictures that I form into tiny shrines.

No, not really.

One of my favorite Suicide Girls is non-existant? How the fuck did that happen?

And my god, I have some beautiful girls in my Friends page. I think my Johnny icon is like a bizarre lure. Not that I'm one of those people who collect Friends. That's as creepy as this albino kid I know who collects tiny balls of glue and ants and occasionally feeds his python with them. I'm just giving compliments where compliments are deserved.

Okay. I promise to update more often. At least twice a week. How about that?

And maybe I'll start putting stories back on. I need to do something to make your brains bleed. So. Anyone want stories and if so, what of? I'll write anything you guys want. I swear. Just no more schizophrenia stories. The "Fight Club" ending is getting old.

Dude, I need to get laid or something.

Until then, no journal entries!

No, okay, I'm lying. I promise a longer one tomorrow.

I swear I'm not dead. But if I was, would that be a problem? I mean, are dead men not rad?

What do you remember about prom? I don't remember anything, since I never had the "pleasure" of going. But imagine if your date dress.wore this dress.

My GOD, it's been over a month since I updated! I'm sorry. Wait, do you care?

Sometimes I wake up in the morning
The gingerlady by my bed
Covered in a cloak of silence
I hear you in my head
I'm not singing for the future
I'm not dreaming of the past
I'm not talking of the fist time
I never think about the last

My brother-in-law and sister are driving in the lane next to me when he suddenly veers to the right and disappears among the blindingly fast traffic. My sister has a look of shock on her face as she watches me moving slowly to the left, forced on by the cars completely surrounding me. I give my brother-in-law a half-hearted middle finger as I'm driven away from the road "home".

And at the next stop, a silver lining appears as I'm surrounded by the old neighborhood. That strange, numb and cold feeling that the suburbs give me (having lived in them for two years altogether) has no way past the boundaries of happiness put up by just being in the inner city. The antique-wanna-be streets lights, the attempts at cobblestone streets. The feeling of Christmas all the year.

There I am, 20 years old, a hundred pounds lighter (and horribly handsome), sitting in the shade of a perfectly trimmed tree. I'm wearing a white dress shirt and a black Beatles tie. My hair is gelled forward in an <i>ER</i>-era George Clooney style. My legs, dressed in black corduroy, are pulled up to my chest as I read Anne Rice. I hold a white Metro transit ticket as I wait for my connecting bus to deliver me the final half of my trip to work.

There's the Nicollet mall.

Down that street over there, things become slightly dirtier. An abandoned car dealership once stood there, right next to the rusting railroad tracks. I always wondered what lie over that bridge...

I relish every ounce of this place, not in the country mouse sees huge buildings way, but in the "this is where I belong" way. If it's possible that a part of a city can feel like destiny, then that must be what this section is to me. There are no apartments that I know of in this area or I would move there, damn college and the lot. It's not impulsive, it's destiny.

I decide they'll be worried and may attempt to find me, so I hit Lyndale, then 35W North, then Snelling, wave "hi" to my old comic shop The Source (who still send postcards to my dad's home), then County Road B2 east until I'm at the intersection of Rice and B2, where an Old Home bakery stands, behind it a large, nice trailer community where my father's house lies.

I walk in the door. My brother-in-law is shocked and looks at his watch. "Damn, Ryno, you were only ten minutes after us! I was worried you would get lost!"

"Get lost?" I said, smirking and taking my coat off, "I can't get lost in the Cities.." Impossible.

Hope you all had a great Christmas.