big empty

i did a lot of driving this weekend. and sometimes i find that when it's just me and my noisy car and my thoughts and the dull urge to pull over and pee somewhere, i'm happy. there are all these cliches about a man's home being his castle and even superman had his fortress of solitude. as much as i dig having an apartment to call my own, i gotta say that my little cherokee with no air conditioning is where i enjoy some of my best me-time.

i'm always having great ideas in there too but i've yet to develop a system to record them without endangering myself and others. sometimes i leave myself voicemails.

ok. so i'm having this problem. and since this is going nowhere i might as well just bring it up now. if you've been reading for a long time maybe you've noticed, too. i'm suffering from this major writer's block. there was a time when i could just plop down and type and something i was proud of would come out and now it seems that even when i do manage to post something on here it's pretty sub-par.

i don't know why and i don't know how much longer it'll be and maybe i just need some really bad shit to go down or something and i'll be right back on track. who knows. it hasn't just been on here, either. it's omnicious. lately i've just felt...dull. it worries me, and then it worries me more that i can't write well about what worries me. this is all very complicated. like spaghetti.

anyway. the reason i did all that driving was to visit my little brother at penn state. this is something i saw there:
this kid seriously wore that all day.