I hope that as you read of my exploits and glance at my photographs you will keep in mind a few things:  I am 20 years old and have abandoned real-world pragmatics.  I am not immune to the bitterness, boredom, and cynicsm (aka: the madness) that seems to haunt the other people I meet at the coffee shop, or parking lot, living room, or grocery store.  I still cling tight to some idealism left-over from the optimistic days of my youth.  I strum guitars, pick at bass strings, and sing melodies, but without such accuracy as, let's say, Bright Eyes, Elliott Smith, The Good Life, pg. 99, Mineral, or Dimmu Borgir.  I love conversation.  I sleep with no schedule.  I consume: ramen noodles and cigarettes, predominantly.  I laugh.  I try my hardest to be available for my friends.  "And I hate the fucking Eagles."