geez, just look at the evolution of a man's consciousness.

and i love the feeling, i love the feeling.

and allow me not to make any specific references. names- my name? aaron daniel mcgarvey. do not allow any part of myself to influence myself please. do not allow, say, the fact that i have been in love to influence my campaign office please.

im running for office, didnt you know? but im not going to let my private self influence my public self.

*the wanderings have ceased for know, and i have put my schizophrenic friend to bed. tomorrow we will wake up together, and we will get something to eat.

perhaps after that we shall conquer the sea.

thank you. thank you.......

there is hope for the lonely in the fields of chester county.

ill tell you where it is- its on a covered bridge that floats over the water. and if you go, please tell me first, so i can share it with you, because i would want to preface it by saying that you will feel love- particularly if you are already in love, and strong will it be for you to feel.

you can wash your dirty hands clean in the river in which there is the only sound. by you and me. but im still imagining the you with the me, because it is to you that i have bequeathed the keys to the kingdom of my heart, and this is what i spend my time imagining.

you want to know, do you? well ok. im making that up. im going to tell you even if you didnt. but then i would just be telling myself. but selfishness is the new selflessness so it ok. ok. ok.

i imagine a companion in my deepest imagination, and i say "hello lover" while she sits in the passenger seat as we drive through that peace that i was just talking about. and the incompleteness is there, but why does it come is stages? for i can be content with a blade of grass. but i will cry cry cry for the love that i never had.

but i imagine a companion. if you want to know about me, imagine that i imagine a companion for all that i do, all the time. but do not come knocking on my door asking, that is, unless of course you are the one, and im sorry dear only i can make that decision. but this is what she said.

so no judging me tonight ok? this is for me, ok. just promise me you wont judge me, and open your arms to receive me.

and may it happen in a field.

and where else was there for him to go? and how do we judge a missed connection, how do we deem it?

for my thoughts are your thoughts, says the i, but the i writes for himself.

i mean here we go round and round right? and where are we going? but this question is so modern, the old ones were better. come on, stop being such a nihilist. everything is true, and we can PROVE it. prove it prove it prove it to me. i neeed to know man.

so youve developed this fascinating appeal ever since youve left my world, and i wonder if the theory here translates into practice, if you are as mysterious as the virtual media here on the screen tells me that you are. its telling me that you are smart, and that you write, and well see that appeals to my senses, you know, because youre not dumb. god see ive been hopelessly alone for ages now and maybe you could be the one that could understand me, because my needs are just that primal. i am not super, or, as Dostoyevsky puts it, "extraordinary." I had better not deceive myself into thinking that i am one of those intellectually superior individuals who thus has a right to transgress the laws of man for the sake of accomplishing my superior agenda. for, you will say (as you should), how do we know that you are from God? where is your authority? i mean, its such a valid question.

but please, just be with me. let me hear your voice. im very alone.

i am the commander of the world inside my head, and nobody knows it but me. it is where i have gone to escape that miserable swell of loneliness that has made this summer one of the most depressing on record. for i like to think that its not my fault. i tried not to be lonely, i tried to like myself, etc. but it all bottomed out, and i think, i think i venture to say that perhaps the circumstances that led to its bottoming out were outside of my control, but what the hell does that mean? should i take any comfort in that, that the reason i am alone now is outside of my control? if i were a judge i would condemn myself. id give myself the maximum sentence (eternity in hell of course) for not getting it right.

"you didnt get it right" i would say, "you screwed up, you failed to realize such and such. you did not have this particular epiphany at this particular time, so you fail. and o yea, the reason youre alone is your own damn fault. you could've reached out to those people, but you turned them away instead. you retreated into your own little world, and the ones you did pursue were the ones you knew would not or could not love you, and you pursued them because you have this sick fascination for things you cannot have, and when they all denied you you just retreated further and further inward, until ambition was your only friend. you read books, you learned languages, you played instruments, you created art, all in an attempt to fill the vacant space of your own boredom movement that only further perpetuates your depression. you are responsible for all of the worlds evils, and you are responsible for not solving them, and you are responsible for all of the worlds questions, and you are responsible for not answering them. yet you are far too cowardly to die on a cross. in the absence of your God, you derived your self worth from your degree of self-perceived intelligence. and then, to top it off, you run through these hypothetical situations in your head where you are your own judge on Judgement Day, and, like Faust, you thrive on the enjoyment of your own viciously public self-deprecation. you hate yourself, so you play neurotic in an attempt to muddle your own identity. then you talk back to yourself so that you do not know who to trust. then you talk back to the talk backer. you say you want to travel, you need to be on the road, but why cant you realize that when you are on the road you are always alone, and all you are trying to do is run from your own loneliness. but you cannot run from it, because at any moment you may become suddenly aware that there is no one in the passenger seat.

and so, for all this, you are condemned. but do you want to know the reason, aaron, why you are condemned most of all? you are condemned most of all because in all of your loneliness, you regretted to notice the poor widow at your doorstep. you could not see the forest for the trees.

but i need, i say, i need. i am convinced that i simply cannot see the forest in isolation. it takes another.

my problem is that i sleep too well. And the reason why i think the metaphor of sleep serves us well in this instance is because sleep denotes something natural, external of the individual volition. Can (will) we be held accountable for the degree to which we are capable of sleeping well? i hear you say, "i cannot control how many chromosomes i was born with," yes but the beatings will continue until somebody listens. you will suffer because you cannot sleep well, and you will suffer because you sleep too well.

there hasnt been any deaths in the family, and im not crying. but what i am crying for is greener grass. Only then can i cry for some nice brown grass- dirty, parched grass full of the kind of dirt you can really sink your teeth into.

she left me, but i still slept ok at night. sometimes i get a lyric, but i just cant get out of bed. there's entropy for you.

*less and less sure that my previous desires for neuroticism arent coming true, because what i find is that im good (perhaps too good) at acting like a normal person. but do i want to be a normal person, or do i want to be dangerous? dangerous is overrated. normalcy is rated about right. im positively 100 percent sure its rated about right. its universal- it transcends the age. everyone everywhere knows it, dont ask me how, they just do. they can sense it from the stars. its amazing. they all come to the same conclusion, so that if i meet someone living on an untouched island in the south pacific, they would know, i mean they would just know. and they could be living 500 years ago too, and they would know, for sure, with absolute certainty, they could count on it.

am i crying yet? no. check. no. Is our journey through the unknown complete yet? no. can i trace the roots of this back to an incident, one strange occurrence of being denied this year? yes. i mean, i guess im hurting in all those kind of ways, hurting in the ways im not hurting. but you did hurt me, so i guess im doing alright.

im gonna ask you, im gonna ask you about justice. im gonna say, "what do you think about justice?" and perhaps you will cower in fear in that way that is so familiar to all of us, that way which has now crossed the line of that which is excusable. and we're gonna gang up on you, and im gonna smear it in your face a little, especially when we'll all be dressed up so nice. and you will sweat in that heat because something, something is on the line.

here, you may be confused as to whether i am talking about God, or some girl, but let me tell you, they are really the same. let me tell you about how i decided a few weeks ago that God is the husband, and i am the bitching wife who spends all his money, and freaks out and yea plays that part. but i always come back to him, theres an understanding there, and even in our hate there is love. so the absent girl is just like the absent god, so its somewhat of a long distance relationship, and there is a lot of silence. but i scream a lot, and slam doors, and run out of the house, and get really jealous, but he gets jealous too. and lonely, o, let me tell you how lonely i get.

let me tell you how lonely she left me. for i gave and gave and gave for her, but it was not her fancy. and then, and then, God defriended me on facebook. o my god, what am i going to do? he doesnt even want to be acquaintances anymore! and yet, you say, we return again to the issue of justice - there were times when some lover fell for you and she was not your fancy. yes, yes, i will be punished, but dont steal the justification for my anger, or, to put it another way, dont steal the justification of my irrationality. i can only manage to be irrational so often, so dont screw it up.

but lets get back to it- how lonely she left me. she moved away, and i dont know what shes doing. but ive been thinking lately, that we probably werent a good fit. i realized it when i realized that i had to fake it to her to make it. then i found out that, to varying degrees, she was conning me the whole time. what do you do with that? ill tell you what you do with it, you stay up till three in the morning writing stories about it, thats what you do with it.

you always said you wanted me to write you a story. but forgive me, this one's probably more for myself.

but who can really distinguish anyway?