Going home.

2 1/2 years is a long time to be away. It feels longer. I think back on living in L.A., and it feels so remote and compartmentalized as to never have really happened. Nostalgia strips away all the pain and the joy, and leaves only a romanticized, and therefore rose tinted, image of myself at that time. It was not a healthy time for me.

L.A. kicked my ass. Chewed me up and spit me out, twice. I was broke, disillusioned, and lost in a sea of confusion at a psychic level. Maybe I never got. I don't care now. I got my own thing going, and it's a good one, and all it required of me was to give everything up and run the fuck away. And in a couple months I7m gonna do it all again, except I am running toward something while running away from something else. That's different, enough.

And here I come L.A., you wart covered dirty snatch of a city. I'm gonna be using you this time round. It comes at a time when I have been wondering if city life really is worth all that we have to sacrifice for doubtful returns. Good food, entertainment, culture, shopping? Internet bitch. Fuck a city. I hate a city. I hate urbanization, and it's ongoing assault on humanity. And the world is flocking to it's cities while rich men buy up the countryside and fucking ruin it, unless of course it happens to be a golf course. We're racing toward neo-feudalism, where the few own all the land, and everyone is leveraged up to their fucking eyeballs praying the dam don't break.

I miss America.

I don't ever want to raise children there, but I do miss it. But will I recognize it? Has it really changed so much? Probably not. Have I changed so much that people don't recognize me? God I hope so. I'd like to think I've continued to grow since I've been gone, and grown in a positive way, what ever the fuck that can be construed as being.

Excited.