There was a portentuous sense of destiny this evening, despite the dead part of my soul realizing that it meant nothing. All my aspirations have ended in dust. It makes little sense that this would be any different now.

Zooming past Orange County at 80 mph, I gazed deep into the moonlit sky, traveled back in time and in space to the Midwest, and sang serenades to myself, momentarily hopeful, for once caught up in the moment.

I’m trying to find a theme that I can jive with, but still can’t seem to find the right one. I keep playing around with every night. Ultimately, what I want to do is create my own theme, with a picture of the lighthouse from San Simeon. But this promises to be several hours of work.

I was thinking that I would write something of meaning, something capturing the ennui and alienation deep in my soul. Each day I spend alone I feel myself drifting away from humanity, losing pieces of myself. I’m actually amazed at how much you can lose without dying or ceasing to exist. I feel myself diminishing moment by moment. One day maybe I will be nothing but a ghost, an echo, dissipated and lost, nothing more than a feeling of uneasiness marring the spring breeze.

I’ve got nothing, man. Nothing at all.