I think I definitely made more of an effort to maintain consciousness last year. My roommate made fun of me when all I did was sit in front of my computer, so to avoid their stares I'd just leave and find something else to do. I felt like my roommate would make fun of me if I sang along with my music, so I made an extra effort to sing whenever possible when I wasn't in the room. This year I started out just fine, coming off summer...sweet summer. Lately, though, I just avoid. "The best way to avoid responsibility is to say 'I've got responsibilities,'" said R. Bach—and he was right.

Unconsciousness, as I call it, has come back to visit, hot on the heels of inertia. After all, it takes a hell of a lot less effort to stay inertial, sitting here in my vaulted frame of reference. I'm not altogether certain I could muster the effort to do many real things, anyway, what with the toil and struggle of staying up late for the newspaper and still getting up for 9 a.m. Latin—yet this way lies inertia and unconsciousness. "Where go? What do? Sleep," advises Kerouac.

The escape into oblivion is nice, and really, it becomes necessary when I've got so much work I'm neglecting. If I didn't escape, how could I face myself? Then again, the oblivion contributes to this whole cycle. Alas, paying attention to things takes effort, hence it's a lot more efficient to just sit here and take things as they come rather than starting real things in real life.

So much of my life right now is molded by old unconsciousness, come back to bite me hello when I'm least expecting it. Some of my friends, I think, could just be warm and unconscious and happy in their dark basements messing with the computer, playing video games, and cuddling forever. It's dangerously seductive, that life. To live like they do is to live outside of convention, as outside things no longer matter. Food, computer, darkness, warmth...what else is necessary? Well, it's fleeting, neh? The self is mutable in that sort of atmosphere—which is part of its appeal, no doubt—but then what?

"Water hyacinth—named by a poet—imitation of life. Like a koi in a frozen pond, like a goldfish in a bowl...I don't want to hear you cry..." "You want the greatest thing, the greatest thing since bread came sliced. You've got it all, you've got it sized, like a friday fashion show teenager freezing in the corner, trying to look like you don't try..." "I'll save a prayer for you, so lost and longing to be dragged through dirty streets, wrapped up in clean white sheets...and if you think they'll watch you now, well, you should know they won't..." "Rain falls on everyone, the same old rain...and I'm just trying to walk with you between the raindrops..."

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