Me,
you,
the city skyline,
Bjork,
and a bottle of Italian champagne.
Kid, we owned it all tonight.


This numbness is a new genre that I have yet to experience. I have become numb to the negative and neutral, only feeling the positive. The positive is, of course, hindered in getting through my shell, and it is riddled with nostalgia and the bittersweet, but, oh, the vibrations are marvelous as they wash over my consciousness.

Allow me to courteously declare neutrality now, no matter the matter. I would like to remain blissfully uninvolved and remove myself from reality. I am functioning on autopilot and am content that way for the time being. Take me anywhere, say what you will, do what you will to me. I am along for the ride; I am the Bonnie to your Clyde, dear friends. I avow I will not be a backseat driver. Pull my puppet strings to move my limbs; contort me into the most awkward of positions... I have not a care in the world. "It is easier this way," said the recluse.

I do not wish to have control in a world where the sacred spots of my youth are destroyed, paved over, built upon in the steady march of progress. Was this monstrosity you are constructing worth it? [Though we do not speak, I longed to phone you tonight to tell you of the destruction of our hideaway. The best and worst of times were truly shared upon that soil.] Soil. There is no longer soil anywhere... just concrete, metals, eyesores. [Don't worry, officer, no criminal mischief was afoot; I was simply looking to recover a mere iota of the inner peace and solitude once held in this locale, but you have the situation under control, now. Carry on.]

Oh, James Hagan, where were you tonight?