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I have a totem. It’s hung where ever I’ve laid my head for the last decade. It’s a poster from the movie Trainspotting. I saw it in my old friend Becky’s ex boyfriend’s dorm room in 2003 and fell in love.


“Choose life” it exclaimed with a succinct cynical snarl that I can only dream of conjuring. It spoke to me. It still does. There are no rules, only choices. I bought the poster and futon I never used that day and those words have been with me ever since.

I’ve made my choices, many of them ill advised. For those I pay an early price. My penance is purgatory. Its dramatic but true. I find myself often in utter despair and happier than I recall being in my twenty eight years. How you might ask? I don’t know. Its the reigning question of my life. I don’t expect theories or reasons. There are none. So I find myself with two realistic options: play in traffic or choose something else. Writing is better than heroin.

I’ve started many a blog, including thisthisdon’t forget about this onethis one was pretty good and that one two. Those blogs like this one were attempts to break though a foggy malaise. They were attempts to be who I always believed I was. Someone who people won’t forget about. As America’s greatest living pundit Tony Kornheiser once put it, “its your lead…  its your shot at immortality.” Is that too much to ask?

"love… anger… depression… joy and dreams and zeppelin totally"