Jars of Ashes

So my dear readers, it's been a month... HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU? I'm just going to go ahead and flatter myself by assuming that my online presence was missed terribly during my extended absence from this blog, despite the fact that most of the readers I have probably read my ramblings bi-annually at best. Alright, I'm posting this installment mostly out of guilt for not updating in such a long time, so I'm not really sure what I'll be typing this evening. We'll probably start with me aimlessly babbling on about my life and such, just like any good self obsessed, quasi artsy teenager would, and later this may devolve and give way to poetic spurting and melancholy gibberish. Hmm... one month. What has happened in the last month...? Well, first and foremost, the life 'o Alex has been graced by the company of a singularly lovely and talented young woman. This is my first *actual relationship (*actual: dating for more than 6 hours/ dating within my state), so I'm still sort of fumbling about, doing my best not to make a complete asshat out of myself. 'Tis nice though; everything feels natural, and setting aside the nervousness regarding integrating myself with her friends and family (I feel like they're evaluating me whenever I'm around them), I am a happy man. In other news, I've found new music, lit many things on fire, completed many paintings, talked to many inanimate objects, collected many scraps and trinkets, and written many fritterings in my notebook.

I've also ripped all of my artwork from the walls. It was midnight, "Let the River In" was playing, and suddenly, I was filled with a sudden and profound need to tear down the same old shit that's been cluttering my head for a year. I feel refreshed; I was elated every time ink splattered paper was torn away to reveal fresh, blank, undisturbed wall space. It's like turning to a new page in your sketchbook, it just lies before you, bare and honest with limitless potential, ready to be riddled with the obscene and the deranged at a moment's notice. It's like cleaning your room so you can make a new mess. Or perhaps like standing on the brink of some unimaginable abyss, and just feeling the magnitude of boundless void sprawling before you. Or maybe... just maybe... it's like setting the world on fire, so you can chuckle, look up, and try to catch the drifting embers like fireflies.

My apologies, but you may have noticed that I have an odd fascination with the whole "world burning" aesthetic. It's not a violent thing, or an angry thing, or even a pyromaniac (maybe slightly) thing. If anything, it's more of an innocent thing. It's just the thought of looking up to find yourself surrounded by an all consuming madness, where nothing is permanent, and everything is suddenly very fragile, and instead of gawking in horror, you simply laugh, lie back in the ashes, and fall asleep with the feeling of flickering firelight on your eyelids, and vague sensation of ash falling from the plumes of smoke and settling on your face. God, reading that over makes me feel like some sort of nihilistic psychopath. Gah, I can't place it, but for some reason, the thought just holds a sort of romantic quality in my mind. Feh, pay no mind to this; these are the ramblings of a half asleep and mentally unstable teenager.

Oh, and I've started playing World of Warcraft. Fuck you, society.