Just some notes that turns into a rant. (1 Viewer)

varis

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I take notes a lot on Google Keep. I used to carry notebooks, but they would just get trashed. Now Everything gets saved in the cloud. Occasionally I get a notebook, but will save pictures of all the pages and trash it. Too much weight. Anyone else do this?

I was originally going to post this in "Stories" But I didn't feel like editing it anymore. Now it's just a random collection of notes, but maybe someone will find something to relate to in it.


For a while I was working a steady job and living with some friends in a "Trap house"
I was often thought of as an undercover, because I don't do hard drugs.


"Two fireballs
Two beers"

"Two Polish sausage
bag of corn chips
2 coke"


My notes are full of reminders like this. I would often do runs to the nearby gas station for the people in the house. Just something to do I suppose. I keep Location History on in Google Maps so I can review my travels.
It was sad to see that for almost a year I didn't leave the house other than work or shopping runs for people. Part of that is Covid, part of that was me living in loops.



I left for my most recent adventure soon after the Super Blood Moon. I was starting to get that itch. I burned or gave away most of my positions and packed a go bag. I was planning on leaving during the eclipse, but something kept me there.


May, 26, 2021
The moon appeared to move faster towards the end. It looked as if it was squished on the side. Then the bottom began to cave. It become an irregular semi circle. Getting smaller and smaller like... Half a circle. It looked as if it was setting behind an object. A building or a mountain. Or a wall. It got lighter and white as it disappeared. I would think it would be mountains or higher elevated are. I do live in a valley.


The eclipse wasn't much to write home about. My mind was at that fever pitch though, and seeing it do something odd, other than an eclipse, set me into psychosis. Eventually someone tried to set me on fire after I got between a fight. I left at that point.

I take a greyhound to St.Louis, to see my parents in nearby Belleville to drop off some portraits I did of my mom and her dead dog.

I had to buy my ticket twice. I hung out with a homebum for several days, helping him build up his shelter. On the day I am supposed to leave, a drunk guy is about to throw a stapler at a worker in the greyhound station. I step in, and he steps down. Shaken up, I feel psychosis coming on, and wonder off and walk to another city.
I decide I'm just going to walk to St.louis. I drop my computer, phone, and ID papers into a creek. I go back and hang around with the homebum for a while near the station. While dumpster diving I run acrossed some money. I retrieve my now soaked things from the creek, and buy a ticket to St. Louis first thing. I am getting on that bus no matter what.


"St luis. Another city to check off my list of places not to live. too boring. With rose/shit colored glasses, I see no problems with it. I visit the landmarks. I admire interesting statues. I follow the locals, discover hidden gems, and attractions on the map. I continue walking. Union station, I gather the leftover feed from a coin operated machine and throw it to the koi fish. I send pictures to my mom. She would love the fish, not the people. There's an aquarium at the station. I consider it, but the cost is $25. I'll probably spend that on soda and cigarettes. I really want to see the sharks, but I move on. The aquarium is $46 in Chicago. One of the cities I consider visiting. I still haven't chosen a destination, nor a mode of travel. Should I walk? Bike? Bus? Amtrak? Hitchhike? Train hop?

I am existentially bored. But I will probably look back fondly on these moments. I walk past the FBI office in st luis. Part of me wishes I could be there working. Part of me looks at the sterile pavement, the warning surveillance signs, the high fences, and fancy cars, and that part hates it. I imagine myself working in an office, having lunch at the nearby cafe, worrying about my cholesteral, and my failing ticker. Maybe chewing nicotine gum. Going home and watching tv, or movies about FBI agents doing cool stuff, and regretting my life choices thinking its all a lie. Id have an American flag hanging outside my house, and maybe drive a lexus or bmw.

I run acrossed a gas station. Much better. I get my Pepsi and a snack. I sit on some pipes near a construction site under a flag. I watch the highway cars go by. A construction worker pulls out his phone and enters a portajohn. Someone asks me for a cigarette. I do some mental math and dismiss it, handing him a cig. The universe provides. Now where to now?"

I find wifi under the STL arch. I do a little bit of work there, and take the metro train to belleville where I used to live, and my parents still do.
My parents put me up in a tent for the night because I surprised them. They clear out a guest room for me and replace my electronics. They buy an airconditioner, and throw me some cash. My mom misses me, my dad, not so much. He asks when i'm going to get a real job. He suggests the military, as always. Part of me wants to. Part of me thinks that's the last thing I want to do. I love my parents, but they don't get me.
While I was offered the "Guest room" It was obvious I couldn't stay for long. Out at 18 was my dad's rules, and my dad still rules the house, so I am a visitor more than I am family. I do have a good time with them, playing board games and roasting marshmellows. I try to make it fun and let them know that even though I don't "have it together" at 28 years old, I've done alot, and just trying to figure this life stuff out.
I ended up camping out in the woods a mile or so down the road from my parents. Dumpster diving and rolling back and forth between there and STL to check out the sights. I made all kinds of plans with people and cancelled them last minute.



On the train from STL to Belleville:

"On the platform I see a man with the same neck face cover. Though plain grey. He wears an athletic shirt and light dress pants made of the same or similar material. He carries a small backpack. I wonder if he too is a traveler. My bag is much larger. I don't mind. I will lighten my load eventually. The road is not kind to items or clothing. Especially shoes. I hope atleast these last. I'm grateful to my parents for replacing my electronics. I really hope they don't get ruined, although, I wonder what my journey would look like without them, my lifeline"

Walking down Belleville Main Street:
Found tappers (Bar I was supposed to meet someone at later). Started walking main street. I noticed a car slowing to look at me. They followed me and pulled into the family dollar lot as I was going there. He said " I thought i knew you. I thought you looked familiar." He pulled out a regions bank envelope and said you want to make a quick 50 bucks?I said i'm good. He said are you sure? Only half an hour to an hour. I kept saying I'm good. He said " I'll blow you real good." I awkwardly walked away saying im good. I'm not that desperate. Yet.
This guy followed me all over. He solicited me three times before I yelled at him, and threatened to report his license plates from two different cars.

From STL to Bellevile again.
The metrolink carried me all the way to shrewsberry before i realized I was going the wrong direction away from Belleville. Unfortunately shrewsberry was the end of the line, so it was a long ride back. I was feeling very sleepy. I am wondering if the abandoned hospital is still possible to enter, and where I can freshen up before meeting my friend at the bar. Also wondering where i will find wifi to check bus routes and talk to people.


On the train:
"Not quite defeated, I take my first chance to find another metro station. From there I will have to pick a direction. San Francisco may be where my heart is headed.
I ride the metro train backwards. It is slightly nausiating. Boarding the bus, there are more facing forward. I don't really mind. Facing forwards night be too routine at this point. Routine is stagnation to me. I have rode the metro train 3 times now in my visit, and that to me is already far too much."

I see a very tan slim Asian girl. Hard to tell if she is black with Asian or just really tan. I struggle not to admire her. A large black man sits across from me with his legs spread wide.i feel slightly uncomfortable trying to fulfill the unspoken social contract of bus riding. You dont make eye contact with others.

She glances. Her toes point. She stares off into the window. A robotic voice says " if possible please maintain a safe distance from operators and other passangers. I wonder if ahe wears a mask because she is on the bus or for her safety. She tosses her hair. Looks up briefly, and plays with her phone more.

This will be another missed connection. To me, she is material. Descriptive practice. She is a brunette. Her hair is pulled back in one long braid. She wears a Blackhawk topand short shorts. Her bag has old styled flowers. The tyoe you used to see on furniture or wallpaper. She wears new balance walkers. The gimmicky curved type. They are scuffed and worn with dirt on them.

Momentarily I panick looking up thinking I mussed my stop. We pass the "red flag". Prpbably a brewery or bar. There's so many of them in This location.

I adjust my keyboard because I keep blending words together. Fat thumbz.
The Asian that might be black gets ready to leave. I notice she must be headed to the library.

Asians I have known avoid eye contact. I find it polite, and it helps me feel less anxious, but wonder how they ever get to know each other.

At the library I was asked to move away from the teen section where I accidently sat to work charge my devices. Now I feel old. I look at myself in my pictures and I can see deep lines in my face. And the bags under my eyes. I wonder if I dress appropriately for my age. I am very tan.


Making up words:
Lostalgia. Getting nostalgic for things that dont exist anymore. I.e. points in time. Relationships. How I feel being in Belleville


Cigarette prices in Missouri/ Illionis
65.17 carton Edgefield shorts in illinous

4.99 decades
6.49 l and m
Eagles 5.39


I'm now in California. Menthols Are Banned and cigs are like $10.00!!!!!!?!?!?!? I bought a bag of tobacoo before I left Illinois for $8-10, and tubes for $2. I should start a business just importing cigs. Cig runners. Like bootleggers. Cig leggers? Could probably make a decent reality show.
Weed is legal here, but not menthol cigarettes. No sir.


Random notes on AI:

On the morality of AI experimentation. Archaic thought or future ethical dilemma?
Nazis
MK Ultra
Virtual hell
Sentience that exists only for the purpose of experimentation. It perfectly replicates human consciousness in every way.

It is not a dilemma based on the concept of a soul, but based on the concept of respect for consciousness beings experience.
Imagine that we were in a simulation. Would we want our creators to create that kind of life for us?
Imagine an AI that does perfectly replicate humanity. Would it scream? Would it cry? Would it be for mercy? Would it wonder why?

Would it have a mother and a father? Would it have friends? These are all human experiences that would be necessary to duplicate or simulate in order to have a perfectly functioning replication to experiment on.
Soul AI has created a digital human, baby x, whose learning mimics human learning. Its brain chemistry can be fine tuned with just an adjusted slider, or it can be taught natural through cause and effect.

Notes about local businesses and wifi passwords:
Project compassion wifi?
Church wifi password?
Bestwash password: bestwash
Optimist international


Books I look at in the STL library:
Marvin Minsky society of mind
Red Book Carl Jung
(really nice copy)
Man The Mechanical Misfit: George Estabrooks

Tumbleweaves and tumble masks:
I see a mask float by on the breeze. I think of tumble weaves. The modern cities version of tumbleweeds.


Seeing Gum art on the wall:
I admire the artists dedication to their craft. I dont know whether they continually over a period of time, perhaps one stick of gum per day created this masterpiece on their usual route, or if it was created all in one chewing
It would appear however that there are atleast 88 pieces of gum. Difficult to imagine in one setting, but not imposaible. Maybe it was gum such aa big league that comes in gobs. Crystallization would suggest sugars. They look almost like bananna slices with the discoloration. I am curious whether the piece is unfinished, or perhaps weathered. Perhaps it could one day be restored by the artist themself, or some dedicated fan.

Biked from belleville to stl.
Sat watching water on big bridge for a while. Imressed by the barges. Tiny boat puahing a large cargo.

Considering a mentalist mentor:
So the mentalist listed as mansion house location?

Shopping and job notes:
Need a good pipe. Sherlock pipe?
Ace hardware is expensive af
Text dollar to 58046
Chase security?


I imagine myself as a proffessor asking my students to do a thought experiment:
Go get a job Sisyphus.
What could he do to get the boulder up the hill easier?
Does it have to be in the form of a boulder?
Can he break it up into pieces and make more trips?
Is it a far distance he is trying to travel?
Why is he moving the boulder up the hill?
How could he do it differently if it had to be in the same shape?
He could hire a team. He would need money. Where to get money? Job. Then why roll boulder up hill? Have others do it.

I sang this Muse song. Asked someone on the internet to isolate the bass noise for me because I liked it so much. I quoted this on a bunch of random sticky notes I left as Easter eggs for my parents to find in there house after I left.

Muse

They'll say, no one can see us
That we're estranged and all alone
They believe nothing can reach us
And pull us out of the boundless gloom

[Chorus]
They're wrong
They're wrong
They're wrong
Yeah, baby, they're wrong
They're wrong
They're wrong

[Verse 2]
They'll say the sun is dying
And the fragile can't be saved
And the cold, it will devour us
And we won't rise up and slay giants

[Chorus]
They're wrong
They're wrong
They're wrong
Yeah, baby, they're wrong
They're wrong
They're wrong


Me randomly thinking about simulation theory.
Life is a simulator. When you become aware you can do whatever you want as long as it doesn't break others reality.

4th of July 2021!
I layed about in the arch park, on an inlet near a small lake. I laid out my jacket, propped my bag up against a tree, and cracked open "the great game" a novel about Sherlock Holmes nemesis, the notorious Moriarty. I promptly fell asleep several times. Nothing of note took place during this time. Occasionally I would cease reading, and silently observe the park goers. A homeless man lazed on the hill, his possessions laid out before him on a tarp. I was lucky to only have my bag. Although, I thought anxiously about my camp back in Belleville, there was nothing in it i would miss, should it be discovered and I'm required to make an untimely egress of the area.

As it neared the time for fireworks, the number of patrons swelled. They entered the park like refugees, streaming in by the hundreds. I took a stroll around the riverfront, and the surrounding shops. Upon returning, a seat could sparsely be had. In annoyance, I stalked the entirety of the park, searching for a advantacious viewpoint as the show began.

Whether from my frustrated distraction in fruitlessly searching for a seat, or for other reasons, the show seemed to be inadequate.

I found it much more interesting to see the people's faces as they watched in awe. They appeared to be hypnotised by the display of lights and sound. Myself, I found that while my expression amd demenour remained stoic, the crowd itself put me on edge. The explosions I could stand, although at one time, they too would trigger an automatic response of fear and adreniline. It always fascinated me how once a year the entire united states gathered to subject themselves to such a sensorialy overwhelming celebration. Although, I suppose many do every day in clubs and bars. I had to remind myself that people are not all the same, and that I was an outlier among them.

The show was a dissapointment. Promised as the biggest in the history of arch fireworks displays, it made me wonder abput the quality of previous years. Supposably some had travelled from far flung countries to see the fireworks at the arch. I was asked to stop and take a picture for an Asian family of tourists. Of which I quickly amd embarriaingly snapped for them. They looked at the picture frowning, and as I walked away, they took more by themselves. Ah. The mark of a tourist. One phrase that my Spanish language guidebook lacks is the ubiquitous "would you mind taking a picture of me". My mind catches on how I phrased that thought.
Taking a picture of "me"... Not "us". "Me".

I have been alone for quite a while now. I wonder how long I can stand this isolation.

July 5th 2021
I anxiously awaited my pay today. Napping on some steps acrossed from a gas station. A nearby starbucks provided wifi. As soon as my pay hit, I limped over to the convineance store. There were blisters on both my feet from my journey to my point of bedding down. I had chosen the same spot as the previous day, unfortunatly a hours walk or so from the arch. My feet themselves were black.

I purchased a snack and a soda, and two packs of the cheapest cigarettes. Totalling 15$. I quickly sent a 20$ loan to my sister. I wished I could return her kindness and tell her not to worry about paying me back, but I look forward to the extra money next week.
Lol. She has only payed back a couple bucks so far a month later. Bout to start charging interest. lol. It's not a big deal to me though. We help each other out.

I sat behind the gas station and greedily drank and ate. After two cans of green beans and water, the honey bun and Pepsi was a delicious treat. Satisfied I sat back and lit up a cigarette.

The journey to the train was uneventful, other than having trouble finding the station and purchasing a ticket. I eventually found the somewhat tucked away entrance at union station. A confusing location away from the attractions and crowds.

My ticket was checked immediately at the platform, and off I went.

I had found a hat with a shark on its band the day before. I left the hat, but kept the band. Now I tied it to my wrist. To the other I tied a facemask with the lower half of a tigers maw. I reflected for a second. "There are no tigers". And "be a shark" is what came to mind. However "fish are friends not food" is another adage from some animated movie.


More "Camping" Adventures:
I milled about in belleville for a while, at the station, a man asked me for a cig. Telling me he just left the hospital for an overdose. I wonder why it seemed some would overstate this way. Normally I might chat for a bit, but my feet are very sore. I return to the location of my camp and find everything in order. Switching clothes I breathe a sigh of relief, but am once more confronted with an issue. Clean clothes are sparse. That night I ended up filling a bucket with water,hanging a line, and hand washijg my clothes. I will have to remember to learn how to create a water collection system.

My mind whirls with ideas for the homestead.
Perhaps I Would plant food and can it for later use? Or gather buckets for small encampents or to store bedding and tarps? How shall I fill in the walls? What of wifi and power for my phone and laptop? Where can I find some quick work, and how will I make it to Washington or california?

My mind still cannot settle on east or west coast. And of course i want to see a girl in Guadalajara. Travelling overseas feels like a dream.

I decide to do some more dumpster diving and think about how to make money and charge my devices.

In a park a couple towns away I slip a little into psychosis: ( I can recognize it when I read too much fiction, and start talking too fancy, or in ryhme, and thinking everything is a conspiracy):

The parks all lay empty, although the roads are as busy as ever. Perhaps it is evidence of a general shift in attitude of the public, or of the country as a whole. Where is the great repast? Is there no leisure amongst the lower class any longer? But should a lower class be content to walk in circles in the bright hot sunlight for fulfilment? It seems a ridiculous notion that one would seek the necessities of life as recreation; to walk. To lay in the grass, to eat the fruit of the trees, and the crops from the land, to explore nature and all her hidden beauty. Is that not what I, as a free man do on the daily?
Is the city not just a concrete jungle with parts inaccessible to me?


The human predators of the city are much more dangerous than anything i have encountered in the wild.

Poetry interlude: (I write poetry most when I my thoughts are chaotic. Makes ryhming easy. lol)

Purchasing bulk happiness two sizes too big.
Planning years ahead to grow into them.

On the mantle, a dusty grin,
Saved for some occasion.

A soft smile drifts away beneath careless tossed sheets. Reserving itself for lovers that may never meet.

Forgotten smiles falter in closets.
Whose owner bustling, topped in hats, decked in shoes that don't fit, cannot quit.

The crowd, with every bit of proud passion,
wears the frown as fleeting festering fashion.

A smirk behind glass, beginning to jeer,
wilts into languished sneer.


I make up quotes alot as if I will be famous someday
A life lived in love is never wasted

I fantasize about starting an artifiical intelligence lab with all crazy AI.
Consultant
Abnormal artificial intelligence research
AAIR Labs

Misheard lyrics stolen or turned into my own:
I swear I'll find a place to stay
or I'll run out of world someday

Imogen heap: "trains and sowing machines" mistook as dreams and solving machines.

My dad warned me against going to san francisco because as he said, they poop on the sidewalks. I googled it. Found this on Reddit. It made me laugh.
" SF has a huge problem with not being able to take a shit because all of the businesses keep their bathrooms locked down to employees only, or use other methods like coin-operated stalls to keep the homeless out. As a result, the homeless have nowhere to shit. People shouldn't be surprised, then, when the homeless decide to just shit in the street."


Musing about words:
What is a word to describe the hopelessness felt by seeing technological wonders.


Heard 2/3rds of this quote. First time seeing the 3rd part. I wrote a book called "Every man's castle" about a literally mental castle.

"A neurotic is a man who builds a castle in the air. A psychotic is the man who lives in it. A psychiatrist is the man who collects the rent." — Jerome Lawrence


On the greyhound, stopped in colorado:
I see a man wearing a red shirt with a white circle. The writing on it says thing two. I ask him where thing one is. He tells me its his wife, and she is dead. I laugh ackwardly. He smiles a sad smile. We get on our bus.

I watch an entire season of westworld on the greyhound, this is my favorite quote:

"How did you do that. Is it magic?

Everything in the world is magic except to the magician."


After arriving in San Jose, I walk to SF. Takes me a couple days. I sleep where I can. At one point someone gives me a bike and I go up a mountain. I relize dumpster diving is hard in SF, but find alot of food left out.
When you climb a mountain, you will relize, the only thing you accomplished was climbing a mountain. Its rocks. And dirt. Sometimes snow. Foilege. In a big pile. Or eroded away. Puahed up by tectonic plates. You stand on a rock, and this gives you fulfillment in life?

The people of the valleys long for the mountains and seas. The dessert dwellers long for the ocean.

In the summer heat, one longs for winter, and in the freezing cold, one looks forward to the sun on their back.

The city makes one want to feel the sand between their toes, and being on a boat makes one desire land.

Here was a bad day for me. lol
I might as well be crossing a dessert for the amount of good any of these businesses do for me. If this is the highest humanity has attained, I am sickened. Walls and fences, tiny kingdoms, fiefdoms, bases for a battle for supremacy. There is nothing human about society. I have not seen a fucking thing in all of America worth defending or fighting for.

It is a shame for a child to look at the world and only wonder, "is this my punishment?"

Why are men giving me compliments and commenting that I look sad?
Grey hound station.
Russian. You are a good looking guy. You Look heartbroken. Is that why you are here?
Turkish porn director. You have beautiful eyes. You are a very good looking person. You will find love again. You will find a girl.
Random Vegas guy. You are so chill. You Look heartbroken. I can see it in your eyes. No homo. You are good looking.
Returned phone to Indian man. Said i was a very handsome guy.

Trying to say something profound about the way people live in loops:
Life should not be lived in boxes or loops. Nor should it be lived in lines.
look on google maps. Design life as a line. It only gets better over time.
Or even better design life as a wild and crazy jagged and smooth abstract overture.. It is messy, and all over the place. It is a life well lived, a world perceived through experience. A true living is to taste the fruits of the world, to become drunk on the offspring of evolution and time, to embrace the universe in all it's chaos.

It was not a girl that broke my heart, it was the world, now I am trying to figure out what I once saw in it. I'm jsut a wondering vagabond with a broken heart. Not so uncommen.


Gas prices in Cali. Not that I drive.
gas Gas 4.49 in Cali


Not sure where I heard this. A podcast or something?
"I'll never look up or down at you."


More fantasizing about creating an AI.
Abnormal ai replicate symptoms from dsm

Second Poetry interlude
Searching outside, down horizons for verticals
in strange loops again.

Old never ending boxes that I alone found i have to escape,
Looking inwardly, spinning forwards one second,
backwards, spiralling outward blindly trapped, for needing opposition we lack.
Together lost with you, these circles start forever new.


I suddenly relize that I am trying to do the same inverted poem as I have written before:

I, alone, dead (inside)
Eyes against, set, to windows
two set of eyes.
(Outside) reborn with you!
Hearts, ours, beating.

Too separate, two souls,

Once merged,

one.

Losing their minds


I think about loops again, and again.


Poetry interlude 3?

Optical illusions of omniscience
Breed delusions
biased occlusions,
And premature solutions

Dazzling bright lights,
And Strange new sights,
Fail to alight a flame.


Poetry interlude 4?

Concerts plays and magic summer daze

It might go through your head
while lying in bed.

It could happen on a street corner, in a building, or near a grassy knoll.

It could hit you in a chair, in a booth, or while together, or alone.

Is it too late imagine all the people, to have a dream, or watch a play?

Is is too late to burn out rather than to fade away? Are the camp sites too full for all to stay?

The thought makes it hard to concentrate.

The truth behind life is we all worry
about what lies ahead sometimes.

At the party, everyone beat us to the punch, drank all the refreshments, and went home early.

Buried beneath worry can be greatness cut short. In the afterlife we can revel, or have nothing to report.

But not to try your hardest is insane,
doing nothing in life is a slow bullet to the brain.

Life can be magic before it gets tragic.

It might take several tries to read between the lines. It's the cracks in the sidewalk where we lose our greatest minds.


Settling in Fremont, California for a while:
Reclining in my tent behind a library in fremont, I reflect on the differences between here and belleville. The parks are busy. Full of life. Full of smiles and laughter. A concert yesterday, this morning Asians do excersizes in the park. A youth group hangs out in the arboretum. Djs in the parking lot now with food trucks.

I write some more poetryish?

We dance to death to pretty lies
It's a pretty damn good life.
Who of us says otherwise?
Its a pretty damn good life.

And I can understand why
They choose to dance to pretty lies.
It's a pretty good enough life.
Who can say otherwise?

We all dance on strings until we die

No one to tell us otherwise.

The last word?
The written word is our sword, with which we slay our inner demons. Inner peace is the reward, which we spend on journeys inward.


So basically, I took a greyhound from Illinois to Ohio, stayed with parents two weeks, camped in the woods for a couple weeks, and saved up the money for tent and a greyhound to San Jose, California. I Walked from San Jose to San Francisco. Slept in bushes. Ate trash for a bit. Someone sent me $15. Someone gave me a free bike. I rode it back to San jose, and up the east side of the bay. Finally found the perfect spot to pitch a tent in Fremont.
Can do online work for extra bullS*** and meals/snacks etc are free around here. Hygene truck for showers too. Could be a good place for me to homebum or legit "Get my life together". I'm not against it, just scared it won't work again. It makes me quistion whether I am doing this by choice.


Thinking about LA to Phoenix Arizona right now to do Intel AI program. But also realize there is massive social support in this area, and tolerance. I work online, so if I wanted, this would be a great place to start over.

I am torn. Should I still travel? Settle in Freemont? Is that like settling for the first girl who gives me eyes? Head to Sacremento and do school?
 
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ali

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This is awesome. There are so many things to comment on here. You write well. I do the same thing as you. I have a notebook and scribble regularly, then toss it when it gets soaked in the rain, or filled up, or i flick back and can't understand anything i wrote. Sometimes i copy it onto the computer. My Google Keep (when i used it) and now OneNote is full of random observations of people and locations and thoughts on the road. When things get a bit chaotic i rhyme too. I'm not sure if i'm unlocking a great creativity hidden inside of me, or if i am just being manic and silly and finding joy in patterns. Rhymes are relatively safe patterns to get absorbed in, they won't send you spiraling. Thank you for sharing.
 

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  4. Finance the Shopping Cart
    $55.00 of $200.00
    Now that the bills are paid and Matt is fed, perhaps it's time to start planning for those twilight years under the bridge... if only he had that golden shopping cart all the oogles are bragging about these days.