Society for Creative Anachronisms. It's entirely possible that I'm having an overly cynical day, so bear that in mind, but it strikes me that no one does anything lasting. We have glorified the individual only to discover just how boring and aimless most of us are. No wonder we're all addicted to adrenaline. I want that explicit joy of being alive while the world lies blanketed beyond the eaves, scarcely daring to survive.
Nothing makes one feel so alive as the stark reality of a Chicago winter.
The road to hell is paved with unbought stuffed dogs. Honestly right now, I'm not missing the affection so much, because I feel like I'm missing the trust in myself that makes giving that kind of affection possible. Here we go. Right now, my handshakes are firmer, my friendly hugs tighter, because all my affection is being distributed through those channels. Friendships and business relationships, despite anyone's assertions otherwise, are a lot harder to fuck up.