I've been a deviant since Feb 4, 2004 at 5:05 PM. I'm trying to remember where I was, who I was, what I was doing. It's like looking at another person, I have no idea what or who is important to him. Does he have plans, dreams, aspirations? If so, they have no relation to what I have achieved since. Like World of Warcraft, I've inherited this account from a stranger.

I like my life now. I really do. But the problem with living in the moment is an extra sort of mortality. If I have no ties to the future, the person I am today will be forgotten in a few years. Forgotten by me, anyway, and replaced by an impostor, so no one else will notice he's gone.

I have this mug. Extra big. With surfboards on. From Honolulu. It's so solid in my hand right now, all I can think of is extraterrestrial archeologists digging it up, trying to find out what this lost civilization was all about.

"Well Bob, from the look of this they had enough advanced industry available to them to get off this rock, but instead they dicked around making millions of pieces of worthless crap until the meteor came. Well, no loss there, right?"

BUT I WAS HERE! I WAS SOMEONE! I HAD THOUGHTS!

Who will know, a thousand years from now? Not me, that's for damn sure.

Look at me! I'm hiding poetry in a journal!