I remember this one night when me and my friend Nathan drove around this wealthy neighborhood. It held a reputation for being a residential spot for celebrities and some of the wealthiest citizens of the city. It wasn’t actually night, it was about four in the morning. We drove through the neighborhood with our windows down. As we drove by gigantic lavish mansions my friend yelled out the window: “Wake the fuck up!” I remember his voice almost quivering because he shouted each word with force. When he said it, I thought about what he meant, and it seemed like he wasn’t just shouting at the people tucked in their beds, under million-dollar rooftops, wrapped in a blanket of money. No, he was shouting to everyone, including me–including himself. We are all sleeping in our own world, protected by an imaginary force-field of doubt. In dreams, the water is clearer; the food tastes better; and the weather is always just right. But we need to wake up. I need to wake up. Because the water is rising; the food tastes like chemicals; and the weather is slowly leaving our alliance.
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Copied and pasted, verbatim from flipnautick's Xanga. His posts might be private... I'm not too sure. But if it is, that's a shame because his writing style is impeccable. It's raw and real and actually makes you think outside the box. I very rarely find it in me to comment his entries. But he has, without a doubt, been a source of inspiration since day one.
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