I just got this urge in my throat, in my feet, in my fingertips. I want to go away to sunny lands, to places with people I've never met and things I've never seen. God, I need to move!

And I hate Pavement.

And you don't know what that means.

And Black Sabbath is mood music to me.

And peacock feathers are the absolute shit.

And the only shoes I wear are moccasins, and now I have a pair of turquoise ones.

And I wish there were more silent films showed in theatres.

Don't you think that's too many ands?

Six months until I am eighteen summers old.

What shenanigans do you think I can get into in six months time?

Ponder that.