The only pleasant thing about moving is that in the process of gathering all of your shit together, you inevitably run across and rediscover all kinds of ideas, plans, memories, and past selves that you'd long forgotten about. Something I found on the wall....

"And finally, gentlemen, it is much better to do nothing at all! Better passive awareness! And so three cheers for the dark cellar! Though I have said that I envy the normal man to the point of exasperation, I wouldn't care to be in his place in the circumstances in which I find him (though I shall never cease envying him. No, no, the dark cellar is, at any rate, of much greater advantage to me!). In the dark cellar one can at least.....Sorry, I'm afraid I am exaggerating. I am exaggerating because I know, as well as twice-two, that it is not the dark cellar that is better, but something else, something else altogether, something I long for but cannot find. To hell with the dark cellar!

Do you know what would be better? It would be better if I myself believed in anything I had just written. I assure you most solemnly, gentlemen, that there is not a word I've just written I believe in! What I mean is that perhaps I do believe, but at the same time I cannot help feeling and suspecting for some unknown reason that I'm lying like a cobbler."

God. Writing doesn't get more brilliant, people. I saw this sucker and then couldn't resist reading the rest of my walls, and I have to say I was a bit shocked to find out what a flaming agnostic solipsistic relativistic nihilistic bastard I actually am. Oh well. I get to start all over now, so maybe this time I'll actually believe in something. I think I'm going to put pictures of Ziggy Marley all over my new room and have the song "Love is My Religion" playing continuously, 24/7, 365. (It's a good philosophy)....