Yes, Fin Indeed

~)o(~




I had a strange desire tonight, once the Museum's done, to just sell all my stuff and go live with homeless kids that jump trains across the country and go to rock shows, become a squatter and talk about jesus all the time, dred my hair and get lost in the Americana countryside, or fly to some country and serve broken people the love of jesus... i dont think you understand me.

I. Want. To. Sell. My. Stuff.

I want, with all my heart, all that is in me here at one thirty in the morning, to be an amazing failure in this world. I want to screw up bigtime when it comes to sucess and the american dream, it's all lies anyway. I want to waste my life away. I want to "waste" my talents on the helpless folks instead of making money for myself. I dont want to care about me anymore. I cried talking to Margie about this tonight at Barnes and Noble.
Coffee for me, Tea for her, we talked for like two and a half hours. People came and whent around us.
She's going to Romania in May to work with orphans. These kids live in sewers. Get bit by rats. Become prostitutes. No one loves them.

I have a whole church who loves me, friends and family across four states, wonderfull friends, god i love you guys so much...

and i get concerned with what i look like, i get concerned with my clothes and my hair... how well i sing, how well you satisfy my desire for affection...

damit
i just feel so american it's sickening.






I dont deserve anything that i have. Nothing is mine. It's all vanity, it's all worthless and stupid and full of lies. My life isn't about a new car, sexy pants or girlfriends is it?







It's all smoke and endless mirrors and we're all as good as dead.










...somebody hold me


__________~fin