This is one of those nights

This is the kind of night that slips away. If you think about the memories you have in life, it's kind of like they're little islands in the vast ocean of your life. Most--or in Jesse's case, pretty much all--of your life is just blank black ocean, covering all the forgotten days and moments. As I walk into my room with the In-n-Out I bought because I was too lazy to go grocery shopping, ready to sit on the computer and stare at the internet, I come to terms with the fact that in 5 or 6 days, this moment will be completely gone forever. And that's fine. Obviously, this thought immediately made itself untrue, but the point is that life has all these cool little pockets of time that are so fleeting...I wish there was a stronger/less-used word for it.  But they just happen and fleet away like little fleeters.  And that's cool.

~~

As usual, there's someone on the internet who's more coherent than me in my points:

NaNoWriMo

I saw this on Collected Animals. I think it'd be interesting to see what comes out of this project if we each did it. I dunno. What are y'alls' thoughts?

http://nanowrimo.org/

You write a novel in a month (50,000 words pretty much). That's about 1660 words per day if you write every day.

We could also put all of our chapters/days on here and make it neat as shit.

sucks to...

Late Night Drive

I needed to take a drive. I had spent all day emailing, fishing for work and fighting myself to come up with a better way to kick start what has been these last few weeks a stagnant career. Night gave me no relief from my overactive brain as my thoughts turned to personal matters. The moral implications of my current relationship came into the forefront and I needed to drive. A quiet, scenic spot would help clear my mind and work out some of these issues.

There's always music playing when I drive but tonight it was silent, I decided to let my thoughts wonder without guidance. Up Cahuenga and a sharp right into a neighborhood near the Hollywood Reservoir I went. Eventually the winding streets let loose a flow of stresses of my mind. In that a debate started as string of questions: Is what I'm doing moral? Do I care if it's moral? Is selfishness inherent? Is it bad? What does it mean to live a "good" life? Do I care? What matters more for society, progress or morality? Is what I'm doing moral? Do I care?

At the very high of this internal morality struggle, I catch a glimpse of something bright on my dashboard. E... empty. I'm out of gas. Like a shot through my windshield, I became aware of my situation. I'm booming down mountain taking me deeper inside a windy, hilly neighborhood and I'm very out of gas. And without a final word on the matter, without a single extra piece of dialogue about morality it was over. I didn't care. I'm out of gas. Far from a gas station. Why would I care about morality? And just that quickly it made sense. It doesn't really matter. In a world with so many real, everyday, tactile problems questioning the morality of every action is pointless. There will be time for reflection, there always is. Answers to big questions don't exist in small problems. Anyways, right now I just need gas.