2005, and still no hovercars

2005 means that I will appreciate numbers. 2005 mustn't be another 2004.

Things must change. I haven't felt so spiritually stagnant, and so emotionally vacant, maybe ever, as I've felt in 2004. It's an awful, awful bore. I mostly feel half as alive as I was just a year ago. I think I have pinpointed a fault in the chemistry. I think I have reprimanded myself, and repented in-turn. I will prepare for the little bouts of vertigo. I will be as God intended me to be. Simply un-fooled around with.

Writing things down in journals over the past year or two has been painful for me. I am such a bore, I cannot cope. I almost wish I could obsess over miniscule details again. I am in dire need of recuperating my flow.

A change of scenery always helps in an act of rejuvenation.

And so in seven days I will have my car packed far beyond its capacity, and I will commence driving. I am moving to Orlando next week. I have a regular, 40-hour-per-week sort of job. Where I can come back to a place of my own in the afternoons. And I can spend evenings and weekends doing whatever I would like to do. Whatever catches my fancy. Fancy that.

My life and times will be spent there for the next five months.

I could even have a social life, maybe. If I manage to become interesting within this next week.

I'm also going to try to take Linus back. The place I'm staying allows pets. And Linus has had it way too good for far too long. He's my cat, and he needs to suffer through insufferable changes along with me. He needs to get disgusted with Orlando's culture of superficiality and the urban sprawl and the Mickey Mouse bullshit, too. He needs to take up his slack.

It's just a matter of transporting him. He has only been out underneath the infinity of the sky twice (whilst being carried from my apartment building to the car, and then from the car to my parent's house), and it completely fucking terrified him. I thought he was going to shake into pieces.

He will look out windows, but he will not trespass that boundary which defines the outdoors. You can leave all the house's doors open if you want. Linus isn't going anywhere.

Linus is completely agoraphobic. He is the only agoraphobic cat I have ever known. He is the penultimate indoor cat.

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But for now I will just speculate on what I should pack. Take a nap because I am always tired, always with a slight headache.

I will have a quick dream about forcing a point about purpose. How's that?