Starved, in the old-fashioned sense, he stumbled through the red doorway into a world of unbelievable romance and terror. The music blasted, shimmied and boomed, until the last of energy went to entropy, which never could happen in such a nexus, a conduit of the never-ending rush of everything to nothing. Hips bounced, legs flared out from torsos of massive smiles and bugging eyes. Those resting from the torrent drank and laughed at the tables scattered around, and there was nothing but horrible cheer throughout. He was immediately dancing, subsumed by that greatest of amoebas, and shaking like an inflamed idiot, grin just as wide, and whitest of white eyes pointed right at the ceiling, the reflection, the speakers staring right back, booming, bouncing, and all was together.
By the time he'd spent what exertion he could, he flowed to the bar, through all of the bodies and motion.
On Xmas of 1992 my brother gave me this journal made of recycled paper with a twig pencil. I eventually filled it up sporadically up to 1995. I dug it out, dusted it off, and started looking through it today, May 6th, 2013. I've decided to reproduce the posts online. It's raw and sure to be embarrassing, but I feel enough time has passed that I can distance myself, yet find a very familiar me within these lines and perhaps find the inspiration to take up the pen again..... Thanks, big Bro.
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