12:14 – This paper looks depressing. Recycled, dark… Almost like it absorbs light in a similar manner as a filter or sponge. But with an evident threshold, much less than one might expect. Now, full of light, the quality of such generated by the small forks of violent lightning stabbing the fleshy surface of my brain, it remains a dull, flat, over exposed canvas, over saturated in hope, and yet I continue to spill the geometric formulation of inks & ideas, willing to the vacuous realities of futility. How did I arrive at this road?

3:20 – A beautiful rain takes this afternoon amidst a modest humidity. Timeless, the rain chained to the history of The World in cycles of ongoing sadness. However it comforts me. A feeling of resolve. A familiar return to the subservient helplessness of man, as a guest in Nature’s bed. Egos, after all, just look silly when they’re soaking wet. But even the boldest of fools still champion their limited power, like desperate dogs, cornered by armed, rural freaks looking to force a good fucking to incompatible mates.

Logan Staats

Logan Staats closes out his set with an encore performance, at the Burlington Sound of Music Festival.

4:10 – The parking lot is vacant today. Every Saturday some bonehead seems to get a thrill out of driving on the sidewalks around here. BMW. Likely some overpaid, underfucked, dependent trying to live dangerously in the futile reclamation of an uncelebrated manhood. Fucking dipshit. There are kids around here! I hope, whoever he is, he ends up driving that hunk of shit into a fucking telephone post. I don’t want him to die. Not even face physical harm. But so he can satiate his need for danger at the expensive of his ridiculous vanity. Get the fuck outta here with that Bullshit!

I need to be careful with my thoughts. It’s quite possible I end up planting the seeds for radical vigilantism in the process of speaking, or thinking so irresponsibly. But would that be so wrong? I’ve already taken the law into my own hands. I stopped a violent domestic dispute. Of course, I’m fine with the fire. I’ve seen the fire. I’ve been the fire, engulfed in the Rage. Once you’ve been burned, you retain those embers. Pieces of Hard Times that keep the fight alive. We are all savages. But I honour my fellow animals by wishing, genuinely for the liberation and empowerment of the helpless.

5:10 – Recalling my stroll home from last night, following a visit to the family for a Birthday event. I could not escape the sense of impending danger. Almost as if the night, itself, was a threat. And the Darkness was closing in on me like the serrated teeth of some demon laid beyond my sight. I’m losing my stability.

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