No matter how much I would like to be everywhere, trying to discover where that everywhere is, is hard. I like the sentiment which seems to imply that I am indeed somewhere.

This is an awkward time. Not just because I am digging my own hole in the ground, both metaphorically and temporally, but because I can hear whispering around the pool, all predicting my own dissolution. It would appear that indeed I am somewhere, we just don’t seem to be where we are supposed to be in time and space. At leasst I don’t feel compelled to walk into a hole, I plan on being here.

In the timeline, I am pretty sure I am supposed to be sunning my buns on a sandy beach somewhere. In reality, I seem to be hanging my head over the porcelain fixtures, reliving myself of any obligation of somewhere I absolutely should be. All this falderol gives me time to ask the question: “Where the fuck am I ?

Dandelions. This is what I look like just before I ascend. A dandelion.

I believe I am being reincarnated as a Volkswagen commercial.