Immediately after I graduated from college my girlfriend and I split and I was homeless and I felt like complete hell so I self-exiled myself in Virginia for the month of January. My father let me stay in his basement. He had a wood stove and every morning I would wake up and split wood in the freezing cold. Then at night I would drink way too much crappy beer and tend to the wood stove. It was nice. I was upset with myself but my job was to keep the house warm and so I did that. (One night I somehow got really drunk and went canoeing by myself at two in the morning and it was snowing. I still don’t know how that happened!)

Anyway, it is five years later, and I am more or less in the same situation. I don’t feel bad about most of it. I won’t be here long. I am writing some truly dumb things in the meantime (before I was hardly writing anything at all). I have been filming a lot to distract myself from all that terrible energy in my brain. I had a car but it is gone now, so I can no longer drive to the cemetery in Nokesville to Think About Some Shit, which is probably good. I still walk around remembering disasters. Though hey, how could I live a day of my life without doing that!!!

I don’t know, man. I don’t really want anything anymore. I don’t even want to know anything. Really I want so few things. I dream about them sometimes, about those few things. How nice it would be to have them!