72

72... 72 minutes... 72 FUCKING MINUTES, and that's it. I watch 72 minutes of Fight Club (yep, never seen it) and my computer says "No more! You pay now!" I'd be happy to go pay a company that I recognize (anyone hear of a failing movie renting company?), 'cept that's not allowed in this country; no copyright laws.

Sidebar: Damn, that probably isn't great for trying to be a penguin in the crowd... whatever.

Anyway, that's probably a bad place to leave that movie. If you get to that point and just leave, you have an urge to be an asshole and punch something, which my brain reminds me is a really bad idea. However (I love that word "however", it's a cop-out for screaming grammatical errors) Anyway, as I was saying: However, as I was watching this movie from my bed with the blanket that matches my furniture and the pillowcase and sheets that match my chair cushions, I couldn't help but realize the stupidity of my day-to-day existence.

I've been bored with mere existence before, this is nothing new, just a new reminder. I've pushed the limits for a rush, been drunk every day in a week, lost friends to similar things, and leveled the fuck out. Now what do I do? I go places and take pictures or something like that; try to do something passively through a lens or listening or something, and I'm never satisfied.

I've got to get out. Got to live and experience in the now. Got to get out of my routine. I've got to do it soon...

Plan: Tomorrow, after work, I'm getting out. Out of my home, out of my comfort zone, without a plan. See where the spirals take me!

Listening to Lateralus by Tool