The Cow Goes Moo.

It's 2:45 here and I'm in one of those, "I really want to eat a steak, write a book, paint a portrait and leave dirty messages on my friend's answering machines" kind of moods. I've often worried if this is symptomatic of something actually wrong with my brain. I don't know for sure and if there is I'm not too concerned. I've always done my best creating in the wee hours of the morning when the sound of the morning birds acts as my ornithological signal to go to bed.

When I use to paint more it was always after several sleepless days when finally I would pick up my brush and canvas and attack like a fencer lunging for the point. By the end I was often covered in as much paint as my canvas as I would often regress into a kindergartenarian response, which is to say I finger painted. I found it gave me far more control over the final product than the brush could ever hope for.

These are also the times when I would draw or write, but there's a curse associated with this boon. That is my defenses are totally down, emotionally. Should I choose to spend my nights watching sad movies or movies that remind me of sad times, I turn into a soppy, sobbing mess. I used to torture my dad with these events by getting absolutely bummed out and then knocking on his door at 4:00 am wanting to talk. I have no doubt I've aged that man considerably. These are also the hours where I find myself thinking about things that make me angry or upset. I imagine this is because I delegate a portion of my daily energy to maintaining a personality and facade that allows me to function in society without appearing weak. When it's late at night and I've started to undress myself from the costume I've adorned, the cracks in my makeup appear and I ride on a razor-blade eggshell of emotion.

I recall distinctly sitting on the couch at my friend's house, just watching stuff on Youtube with one of his roommates (female). While I can't say I have a legitimate romantic interest in her, I found myself swayed by the dark light, the sound of music on the pc and the cozy intimacy silence can bestow upon two people.

I was also fairly loaded, but that's sort of beside the point. I've felt this way before. It's like every movement, every sound and every thought is so profound that it carries with it the utmost weight and relevance. One of my favourite evenings this year was spent with my friend watching Bruce Lee movies, Magnum PI and playing chess while drinking hobo beer. I don't require a lot of pomp and circumstance to enjoy my evening. Often times it's the dissolution of pretense that serves as the silent icebreaker to an evening.

Now, it's come to my attention that no one is really reading this blog. I perhaps get the occasional glance through, but not in any quantifiable way. I'm actually pretty happy with that. It's giving me this fantastic engine which is fed with thought and feeling, an engine that had begun to seize up from disuse. With college coming in the future, and with that an introduction to new people, I can hope to use this blog as envoy to the nation of Me. It's honest, perhaps harsh at times, but it's an unashamed view into my mind. For those I feel who are worthwhile pursuits as friends I will probably offer up this blog so they know what they're getting themselves into.

This my 20% Steel blog, my Declaration of John.