"Always ten feet tall"

So winter break, in all its ups and downs, draws to a close as friends trickle down the Parkway or some other more interstate superhighway and I find myself whiling away the evening hours alone... again.

Such is the end of anything though, I suppose. But I'm beginning to really believe it's true that it's better to burn out than it is to fade away. At least then you don't have to worry about the weekends spent in limbo... in fumbling preparation for closure. It's just, poof, concluded. I guess that's not the way the world works though. And what kind of mixtape would my life be without transitional sequences, right? right.

Everyone is all "God, I can't wait to get back to RU!" or "Man, my homies at Harvard must be missin' my gangsta ass." Even facebook statuses proclaim a longing for Universities missed and friends missing. Brittney is MiSsIn hEr RaMaPoOo gUrLeEz! lol!!1 <333

Christ.

Everyone.

Everyone.

Everyone... and yet the funny thing about it is how easy it is for me to get comfortable. With people, with places, with habits, with whatever. But I'm thinking that when you get rooted so easily, constant upheavals... constant instances of uprootedness weaken your grip. Weaken my grip.

Elipses imply uncertainty. Almost always.

As often, at least, as they imply a presence of the unspoken.

Just pause to add your own intentions. Right here.

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Feel better? Neither you nor I, dear reader, will ever be able to, respectively, read between those dots. So fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all.

Oh, home. Which house is yours?

Bomb the blogosphere,
Mike

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