the melancholy pursuits of life has drug me ever deeper into the reservoirs of antiprocrastination. the global transits so longed for have been indubily replaced by the vague wanderings of an adolescent. society has strengthened its grip and cleansed all it sees with the ablution of time. the essence thereof is no longer lingering loftily about our lazy selves but sets itself firmly in the distant only to be grasped by those who have the power, determination, nay, the potential to seize it and to call it its own. but few who walk this earthly clay ridden ground can clamp their everything about that so highly desired prize that tempts us to come hither. i am but a lad who has not the ability to take what is not his or to stick a flag into the evanescent glow of time.

well, thats my excuse for not writing anymore.