When You're Only Twenty-Two It's Not Attractive To Complain About Your Sore Back...

But today the damn thing is killing me. No Joke.

Well, I got the staples removed from my head yesterday; the first time in days since I could run my hand through my hair and not feel metal and a sting that produces an instant headache. For those of you who have no idea what the hell I'm talking about, I'll give you a recap: Two mondays ago I awoke to find my motorcycle stolen from my very own house. Big. Fucking. Deal. It was a blow of which I shall never fully recover. My trip of SIX WEEKS has been condemned to death by the actions of the mysterious thief who is now in posession of a very lovely bike with my name all over it. Anyways, the staples come in the next day. I was working on a construction site and moving an eight foot ladder which happened to have a hammer at the top, waiting to fall on my head. Well, it did. That thing hurt too! My father asked me if I was bleeding, I said, "I don't know," and then down my face the blood began trickling. Five staples later and I can't walk through a metal detector without a strip search. But all that is over now, thank God, or whatever it is we're suppose to thank. I have to wait for my stupid insurance agency to buckle down and get me a new bike, but its in the works and i guess I'm over the loss of the trip now for the most part.

I must confess, dear readers, this type of entry (talking about facts of my life and such) is exausting to me. I don't really find my life all that interesting so I guess I can't really fathom how anyone else should either.

Basically, I just want to feel forever like I'm about to burst into millions of particles the rest of my days. By that I mean, well, you know, that feeling... That "first kiss" rollercoaster feeling inside, filled with excitement and anxiety and sleepless needing satisfaction and shear wonder unfolded over eyes forever. I'm convinced its possible. It would take both a change of perspective and a very busy-body to make it so. To never stop. Whats to say that we can't act out all of our intuitions; our desires? I mean, for the most part anyways. More practical people will always argue against it, but thats only because people never want to give up anything; only accumulate more. If I had to give up all my furniture, music, and most else that is of any value to do something I really, really wanted to do, then I suppose I just would. In all honesty I would love to only posess at any given time the clothes on my back, my bag with a few gems of books and journals, and as a distant secondary maybe a mode of transportation (motorcycle). I would go from place to place and experience adventure after adventure. That would be a life for you. But... we always think it and never do it. It would be hard to do, especially with all these comforts of home. I have my front porch with the bugs and the low-light and the cigarettes for my ashtrays and the night air and a good book for a decent drink. Nice, huh? Well, when you're forever in motion drinks slow you down, cigarettes are bad for you, books are too hard to read, the night air is always changing and bugs whack you in the face. But.... the scenery is surreal. From mountain to ocean to river to lake you are there, in the physical, and nothing and no one can tell you what you are feeling, seeing, smelling, touching, and tasting except you. Fuck. Sign me up. I'd love a friend along for the ride, but I understand its hardly ever possible. We DO have to grow up sooner or later. Thats the damn facts. Unless, of course, money comes through such irresponsible behaviors, in which case, keep going. Well, I have this hobby I like to perform now and again. I like writing. Its nice to throw the words on the paper and fuck with them however I want to. Maybe i could go out in the world and write? Maybe I will.

-C.A. Dominick