It occurred somewhere between 7:30am and 8:45am. I awoke and by the time the afternoon had arrived, a family party was in effect at my relative's house. My parents and aunts and uncles were going to leave for the airport to catch their P.I. flight. On the news, headlines were being made: across the globe on the dark side of the planet, the moon had filled to a deep, blood red. Cities were filled with growing chaos, fears of the end of days were rife. Everyone in the house was filled with the same feeling of dread. I asked my mom, "Are you guys still going to get on that flight?" She answered with a familiar annoyance, yet serious aggravation, "I don't know, ask your Dad." I find him, and immediately take him into the car and leave, saying, "I have to find out if this is for real." We drive several hours out of town, to a spot near the coast that I once saw. The sun was setting on the western coast, it's dusk glow bathing the foothilled horizon. I could vaguely make out the sudden appearance of buildings that dotted the hills, the mysterious translucence both awe-inspiring and creepy. Where did these buildings come from? There was nothing out here. I turn into the quiet lake that I once promised myself to come to for self-reflection. A lonely church next to a lonely lake. We step out, and I inspect the grounds. What was I looking for? I knew He did not live in this house anymore. There was nothing here for me. I started walking away, and another man appeared out of the woods outside the grounds. "Are you waiting here, too? Patience, child." He sounded vaguely like Christopher Walken and looked strikingly like what paintings depict of Thomas Jefferson. This event startled me, but the next moments would continue to stretch my consciousness. An old classmate appears next to me, looks down and grins. More lost, familiar faces come from the path beyond my car. Along with them, hundreds of people begin to congregate in the clearing next to the lake. Many sit down and converse, continuing where they must have once left off. I follow suit and sit down. I can only marvel at the scenery and crowd. The mysterious buildings in the distance shimmer a soothing blue in contrast to the darkening sky. I spot one face that shouldn't be there. Someone dead and gone from my past. Once I realized that, another shock came. Flanking me on both sides were Jaime and Ryan. They both sat down. I felt relief, but still an overwhelming amount of dumbfoundedness. How can this be? Is this it, Heaven has come to Earth? Those ghostly buildings must be for the last chosen. This is the Rapture. Did I escape the Wrath of God? What about everyone else? I could not help but break down and cry, my hands covering my eyes, the tears so warm and salty as they fell from my eyes. I could see each single drop hit the dirt, and I could only focus on the certain reality of those tears and nothing of my friends and the others around me. Ryan and Jaime picked me up, and proceeded to show me to the church. The inside of the church was a resort. Anything you could want to do was all infinitely and maddeningly housed within the house of the Lord. Yoga, crafts, buffets, tumbling, spas, libraries, anything. Everyone looked so content and blissful. I couldn't bear the thought of the end of the world, and could only leave as quickly as I came into the building. As I left the church, I fell to my knees, screaming at myself, God, and the world. Ryan and Jaime were quick to comfort me as I continued to break down. Jaime first said one thing that decimated the rest of my reality on the spot, "It's okay now, I know I've been gone a while, but now we'll be kickin it for the rest of eternity."
"You've been gone???"
Ryan added, "Yeah, don't you remember? He died two years ago..."
"WHAT?!"
I was fully delusional. As it sank in, I replied, "I must have been living my life so deluded... All this time, I always thought we had been hanging out with Jaime, too... Are you dead, too?"
"Yeah."
"Since when?"
"2010."

And then I woke up. The dream was so real. I could feel, see, hear every real moment. I had never experienced lucidity like this. The entire event was wholly believable to me. My parents were in fact leaving on a plane this same day. Maybe this concocted scenario had something to do with the conversations about God that I had with Van the day prior. Or the subconscious fears of the end of days at 2012. Or perhaps it has to do with the people who are leaving my life for extended periods of time, a form of surreal separation anxiety. I'm sure my recent experience of witnessing a partial lunar eclipse unseated some kind of hidden cosmic paranoia. The craziest part of this dream was that it was completely in the first person perspective. Usually, my dreams flow between first and third, in a fairly cinematic way. This time it was jarring, visceral even. I just hope this isn't some kind of portent.

The Score.

I'm the only one that ever reads this. The expected outcome is at least 30 minutes wasted perusing the inferred states of my mind over the years as verified by the backlog of entries. Oh well.

This is tentatively (and officially declared) the last year of undergraduate schooling in my life. Before the calendars change over to 2009, I will have commenced and finally liberated myself of nearly two decades of American academic institutions. However, this spring semester will be the most ball-grinding, protracted experience I'll ever have. Six classes, nineteen units. Medieval Art, Italian, sculpture, printmaking studio, art of china/japan, and an independent study. It's all there, ready for me to demolish: expectations, conventions, sanity. On top of that, a commission for a mural painting in the client's house. My greatest apprehensions and fears lie in the independant study and the art history courses. Last semester, I cruised through sixteen units/five classes, with par performance in the ethnicities and art history classes. AND I was blazed most of the time. Who would've thought the sweet chiba would actually do the opposite and keep my head above water, eh?

Okay, so, this is the score:

-a 10 page paper + several written assignments and tests for ART 105
-another 10 pager and exams for ART 117B
-in class sculpture works (although it is implied that we'll need to work on our pieces outside of ASL as well)
-about 11 prints for ART 145 (a combination of serigraphy, intaglio/engraving, and relief prints)
-six 80" drawings of a sequential narrative (Destiny/Soul) with a 36+ page graphic novella in support (file:\mk. II-CZ
-11x4' mural painting

You ready?

unplug

This is harder than I thought. School, work, everything in between. It all seems so hopeless at times; an endless race to meet other people's expectations, when I have none of my own. Actually, whenever I have expectations or aspirations, they're of the ego-feeding variety, when the ominous truth is that I will live and die unknown. It's funny that word came up, "unknown." In elementary school, I entered the school spelling bee and was tangled up on that word. U-N-K-O-W-N. That was the first immensely humiliating experience I can remember. It was almost traumatic, because I can never spell, "unknown" without second-guessing my ability to spell it correctly, especially considering I pride myself in my competence of the English language. Life is a humbling experience, a tormenting cycle of my consistent failures. It's always one poor decision here, a hasty transaction there, and the inevitable encounter with a great girl that either has a boyfriend (or girlfriend) or just. doesn't. want. me. However, what business do I have being content? I don't deserve such reward, nor would I appreciate it. I can barely tolerate routine, whether it be the daily grind, or saying, "I love you," at the end of a phone call. It's true, familiarity, predictability, breeds contempt. I need a permanent vacation.

Agenda- Requiem of 2006

Thanksgiving break: November 23-26th

Winter break: December 25th-January 26th

Next time I am for certain returning to San Diego: New Years

It is within any of these given time frames that I intend to take at least one drive to Southern California for a sabbatical. Possible destinations include San Diego, Chula Vista, National City, Pacific Beach, Irvine, Fullerton, and Mammoth Mountain. Although, the Thanksgiving break may not be such a great opportunity considering that the Nintendo Wii will have just been released less than a week prior. I may just have to camp it out at home and play the Wii until I gain insomnia.

Flip the switch.

Here we go. In one fell swoop (although it was technically a two month transition) I went from unemployed for over a year, surviving on a dwindling severance pay and expanding credit card debt as well as being a washed up community college super junior art major to being handed a flexible job at an art supply store, transferring to a university with a sufficient art program, and inheriting a job as the lab assistant for said university's graphic design department computer labs. It's not as overwhelming as I think it is, but the drastic change in behavior has been the oddest thing to cope with. At the height of this summer, I slept to nearly dawn and woke up at around noon. Just in time to watch Star Trek: The Next Generation on SpikeTv and shower before heading to Utrecht for work. Now I have to wake up at around seven in the morning to get to school, which is then followed immediately by work. The time I spend at home to myself has become rare opportunities for rest. As it stands, I spend at least one hour on the road every day to get to school and/or work. School every weekday, work every day. On top of that, I'm still a washed up artist, now I get to look forward to being a burnt out art student. Therefore, I have decided to reverse just about every routine, habit , and usual facet of mine. I can no longer allot time for art other than that which is relevant to my classes. I can no longer live nocturnally and prowl after dusk. I can no longer waste my life. I can no longer neglect my priorities.

Game Over. You Lose.

Continue?

Satisfying Dialogue.

Her: Do you have t-squares bigger than this?
Me: Yeah, over here.
Her: Ohhh, okay. Twelve dollars?? Thats too much.
Me: Huh? T-squares aren't cheap.
Her: Oh, no, I mean I can't be spending that much. I already spent $26 on lunch today.
Me: Daaamn. You didn't spend $26 on lunch for yourself, did you?
Her: Yeah! And it sucks because it wasn't even happy hour!
Me: Where?
Her: Tokyo Fros.
Me: I suppose thats alright, now is one of the last chances to get smashed in the semester before midterms hit.
Her: Oh, I wasn't smashed. I just had a couple of beers.

Testes the size of a Jupiter moon.

At the height of this afternoon, in the swirling commotion of the bustling University Union at Sac State, I plugged in headphones, wacom tablet mouse, opened the CD tray and popped in a disc into my laptop. I played Diablo 2 while sharing a table with an older lady and hot girls studied and everyone else stressed out. Bowazon, bitches.

Crushed: a revelation that I am lacking.

The first week of school is almost over. It is sensory overload out here. I am burnt out. The walkway in front of Mariposa and Kadema is teeming with so many beautiful women that my eyes have worn themselves out over the course of two days. Even worse, is that most of these gorgeous girls come into Utrecht right afterward. I've been missing out on this kind of attraction for far too long. It's hard coping with my dumbfounded awe. Although, I think working at Utrecht is helping; working retail forces me to interact with strangers, smiling, and saying, "Hello" and, "Have a good day" constantly is putting me into a social mode I have not experienced in ages. This combined first week and work at Utrecht has got me. I quickly fell in love on Wednesday. She walked in at the height of our back-to-school sale rush, a 5'6" blonde muse in a green sundress. I said hi, and eagerly attempted to aid Her shopping spree. She told me She'd figure things out because Her syllabus had a course materials list. I paced the floor helping other cute girls. Most of the girls would concede that they needed my help, and I gladly did. Whenever I finished assisting a customer, I would pace around, and ask Her again if She would like my help. More customers began to suffocate the store; both registers were in non-stop point of sale for Christine and Malia. In time, some of my classmates for Drawing came in, and I practically shopped for one of them. I asked Her again if she was doing alright and finding her materials. She declined my help once more. A cute girl from my Color class asked me where some of the acrylics we needed were, and I grabbed them for her. I asked Her once more, and was again declined. It was then the closing hour, and I checked up on Her. She finally said She was ready for my help. After picking out items for Her, we began to chat, and I was soon enraptured by Her. Her raspy voice, Her sass and spunk. I couldn't get enough, although our time was getting short. Inevitably, I was unable to work up the courage to even ask Her name. I'm sure She would've given it to me, at the very least. My only hope is that one day this semester I can bump into Her in front of Mariposa Hall.

RESTART.

I thought it was game over, but its now back to square one. Although this square one isn't exactly starting from scratch or with a cleaned slate. Figuratively speaking, I died about a year ago, but I've just been reincarnated, back for redemption. ROD vs. EDUCATION 2. This is the main even title bout rematch, and I'm hungering for blood. Here we go again.

Every now and then, I get a flaring pain in my right wrist. This has nothing to do with your perception of me masturbating too much, because my wrist is all jacked from some unknown injury I must have had. I suspect it was one of the times I bit it real bad while snowboarding a while back, because a bit of the tibia or fibia juts out of the outside of my wrist. Normally, it just makes push-ups and any kind of flat palm pushing a pain, but now.. the flares are happening much more frequently. It's been a week and a day or so between what I'm thinking is an inflamed wrist tendon. Maybe theres a pattern here, because it's been a week between nights of being tanked. It sucks.

Such contradictions in life. I seem to be extremely unlucky. Yet, I am extremely fortunate. I guess thats the compromise. As hard as I may try to prevail, I never really do. And as much as I act as a failure, I am able to keep it together. Even a simple gesture of affection gets me nowhere, and risking my life driving drunk turns out to be a success. I think I'm going to have to do all the bad things more often since I get better results.

Disclaimer:
I am full of bullshit, a hypocrite. No person on this planet should be able to claim otherwise. Whatever I've said in the past, does not fully correspond to who I am now; I am a wholly different lump of perspective in this here-and-now than in the then-and-gone.

Moving on.

Like before, I'll be veering away from using blogger in favor of a site-based weblog system (grey-matter). I've got a slight handle on how the cgi works, so I'll be jumping into FINALLY constructing my little site on respark. I'll probably continue to use revizion and artofact for their own specific purposes, but once I get soul up and running, I'll be focusing on updating it more so than the others.

In other news (if you would consider anything I mention news), I'll be setting my eyes on developing this comic book and just upping my game in general. I haven't been consistent with my art in months, so now is the time to get out of my laziness. To support productivity, I have resolved to draw all the current Void fighters from A to Z. Including the two fighters that start their names with fighters (0roch1 and 2.4). Hopefully I can draw a fighter per lunch break at work, which is about 3 per week.

I've lost a lot of faith in most people.

Which only strengthens my resolve to segregate myself from everyone else. Just about everything about socializing has lost appeal, and I find little use to do so now. I've always been a solo mind wandering around, even when I had this great group of friends called sQuiD, and even back in the days when it was just me, Jon, Kris, and Eeron kicking it. Now the fact that I am, and probably always will be, alone is becoming more apparent. I'm beginning to think there's no use in keeping friends when it's more than likely they'll let you down. And then whats the use of being able to rely on someone if you know they'll disregard you. Too many times have I felt unimportant when I've tried my damnedest to be a reliable person. Sometimes I am clearly at the center of things, but I still feel like I'm on the outside looking in. I am no one.

This sounds like a really bad rant I once wrote.

Well, damn.

It's been a minute since I last logged in. Considering a lot of shit has gone down since I last recorded my thoughts here, I have some explaining to do.

So first, the kickback. My family left me at home while they went off to San Diego. I rounded up as many of my close friends together to hang out at my house on Saturday. They brought the grill, and Rob (for the majority of the time) barbecqued chicken and hamburgers. We threw back beers, and smoked cigs and blunts in the backyard, frontyard, and garage. The night was capped with some more beer and plenty of gamecube participation. Sunday was more of the same, but other than barbecqueing, we deepfried fish sticks and fries. More gaming. It was good.

Then my family came back on Monday night to a somewhat dirty house. That was pretty bad.

I've been playing way too much Def Jam: Fight for NY lately. That's bad, too.

I finished one page of my comic. One out of 9. With only a week or two left before our deadline. Thats REALLY bad.

Started work with FTB again. That's just all around bad. But money is involved, so its OK.

There's something immense weighing on my mind. Emo magnitude. That's plain UGLY.

CAN I KICK IT?

yes, you can.

This weekend was chill, and dare I say, AWESOME? It was fairly haphazard, as far as I can tell. Friday, did the normal thing, school bleh bleh bleh. Kicked it with Lazell after class, happily accepted cigarettes from her while we hung out at CRC. The rest of Friday is lost in my memory somewhere. I probably slept through most of it.

Saturday was a blast, forrealz. Woke up early after only 2 hours of sleep. I blame it on my willingness to stay up and talk to Claudia online. I'm a sucker for her sometimes. Dropped off the younger sister to Elk Grove High for some reason, went home, ate a fat breakfast, waited expectingly for Ron. An hour and a half after he said he'd come pick me up, I wake up on the living room couch to his doorbell. It's around 10:30am now, but the loss of time didn't matter because we were going to snowboard for free anyway. By the time we got to Lincoln, I was passed out; woke up in Truckee on the way to Northstar. Suited up, grabbed the board, strolled up into Northstar like badasses. Ron went into the rental shop and got our lift ticket hook-ups.

We took the Vista lift to avoid the slow gondola ride to mid-mountain, and cut straight to the waypoint. Checked our backpacks in, and took the Pioneer lift to make a blazingly quick run down the bunnyhill for a warm-up. And when I say quick, I mean we zipped through the open hill with no stops and pure speed. At the bottom of the run, we hit up Pioneer lift again, but this time we went down the backdoor trail which led straight to the back side. After the corridor transferred onto the main runs, it dropped into this crazy hill dotted with ridges and bumps like a broken mogul. I actually think I went down part of a mogul. Should've listened to Ron when he said to stick to the side of the hill. The back side lift took us to the summit, and from there we hit the backside again. By the time I caught up to Ron, we were exhausted enough to get lunch. We called it quits after the meal, and once again Ron led the way to a faster and efficient trail to the village. Productive to say the least, Painful to say the most.

When I got home, I sat my ass down to rest, then got ready to hang out with the cousins for Jr's birthday. ate, went home, slept. Woke up again, this time for church, got home, slept again.
Woke up at 7pm (hell yeah), realized there was nothing good to eat at home, put on some clothes, left to get food. It started raining, but I was too hungry to let that stop me. Made a quick stop at the Monkey House, said whassup to Kiel, Jasmine, and Jaime. Reclaimed my zippo lighter, then went to grab some grub. Carne Asada fries from Carolina's. A forty ounce of King Cobra and MGD from the local liquor store. Gave the 40oz to Kiel and ate my fries ecstaticly. Rob and Jen had come home by the time I returned, and they brought liquor with them, as well. Two bottles of wine from their trip to Sonoma. Pat waltzed in minutes later, with a bottle of E&J. Just another night hanging out at the Monkey House.

THE FOUR HUNDRED MILE FABLE, continued

It was bananas. Pure and unadulterated raucous rock. I recounted the basic events of the trip to LA and San Diego, but I didn't capture the apeshit craziness that happened over the two and a half days we were away. These are the memories I take with me of our So.Cal Vandal Tour.

Once again, we played Eagles of Death Metal on a roadtrip, and me and Alex violently rocked the front seats of the car for an hour of insane glory.

This time, Alex stayed up the whole night while I drove, which added a good amount of laughs and entertainment for 5 straight hours.

At around midnight on the way down, while most of us were still asleep, Alex randomly blurted out the "kininnigan" inside-joke of ours and we resolved to repeat the joke every other hour. Which we actually did, hahahaha.

I probably would have been just as content watching the Indiana Jones trilogy on Saturday and Sunday rather than go out on the town.

Dave and Busters is a cool place, but they only had Tekken 4 and a rom arcade machine for fighting games. WTF.

I tried to get a hold of LJ (fellefel) to kick it, but my call was too late and we were too far away from where he lived to kick it on Saturday night.

Alex noticed that So.Cal girls looked hot, but didn't have an acceptable amount of junk in the trunk for our tastes. I attributed it to the, "2-D Booty Phenomenon."

I'm starting to think that girls down south are far more personable a.k.a. skankyslut than the girls up here. Seriously, a random girl around here wouldn't give me the time of day, but out there they'd come onto you first. CRAZY.

Adam and the rest of the cats living in that house are totally sedate, and its awesome. When we arrived, Mike was on his way to buying some beer and the rest were watching Futurama episodes.

Mike and Adam showed me the motorcycle that they 'stole' which was probably originally stolen and abandoned at the Ramada Inn across the street from their house.

Most of of the day we were at the San Diego house, me, Alex, and Jaime would crack all kinds of Anchorman reference jokes. What struck me was that not a damn person in that house laughed along with us, because only one of them actually saw the movie. Those guys are dead inside or something.

Downtown San Diego is crawling with hotties. And it was only a Sunday night. For future references, always remember that the Gaslamp District has the best bars/clubs on 5th street (and F street). Everything that would be of interest is located on that strip, it even goes all the way down to the Convention Center.

The C Lounge was the highlight of the entire trip. Imagine a hip hop club that actually played good hip hop. Chick in the Fatal Fury hat caught both me and Alex's eye that night, as she was this blazin' young latina with a massive vibe that everyone there felt.

There was this amazingly cute chick that sat on a couch across from the one me and Jaime were sitting on, whom caught my eye. We exchanged glances, a quick smile. Some guy was buggin her, and eventually he was led out by security right in front of us. She gave me that relieved and annoyed look when dude was led away. We exchanged a few words, and that was it for now. She eventually wandered off and talked to a bunch of different guys that night. When the DJ gave up the mic for a freestyle session, I stopped by the bar to grab a beer. I felt a tap on my arm, and saw her right next to me. She asked if I were buying a shot, I told her I was ordering a Heineken. She then asked me if I would like to take a shot with her, because she didnt want to take one alone. She had just stopped talking to some guy a few minutes before I got my beer, so I felt honored. She had taken some other shots that night, so she asked me to choose. The bartender didn't have the right ingredients to make Liquid Cocaine, so I let the bartender pick one. Washington Apple. I insisted on buying our beers and shots, but she was a persistent one. I'm pretty sure the bartender never rung either us up for my beer, ROCK. She said to make a toast, to make the shot seem fitting. I toasted to "Hip Hop", she toasted "it don't stop." We flirted for a few minutes. I was getting caught up in her. Strike one. She thought I looked familiar, but I told her I'm not from around here. Strike two. I tried to get her to get on the dancefloor with me, but she said something like "I dont really dance, only when the mood and right song is on." Strike three. I was out of there. It was pathetic how I let the moment fail, but whatever. Only in San Diego.

Vandalizing San Diego and Fullerton was the most liberating feeling of the entire trip. Seeing Taft and Huey Newton on some random wall or street corner was great.

Watching Kung Fu Hustle while high made it seem like the greatest martial arts movie ever filmed. And I'm pretty sure it is.

Mike suplexed Alex, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA.

After we left the San Diego house, I got lost 3 times leaving SD, 2 times leaving Fullerton. I claimed that I didn't really get lost, and that I was merely, "looking for something."

This store down the street from Gema's apartment had this giant window signage that said "Puppies, only $25." We rushed in and fell in love with all the cute puppies inside. I started to notice that each puppy was pure-bred and none of them were cheaper than $500. We eventually left, and I thought that all $25 puppies were probably already bought. When we walked out the door, Cheryl noticed the smaller print on the signage that read: "per month." DAMMITT!!

Before we left Fullerton, I started taking swigs from Alex's bottle of Jagermeister, which quickly had me buzzin before we even hit the road.

During the holdup on the foothill highway to Grapevine, I spontaneously ran out of the car in a fit of madness, flailed my way to the next car in front, then back to the car, all the while screaming incoherent shouts.

After my moment of insanity, a guy in a truck ahead of us got out of his car and approached me, we talked for a few minutes. At the end of the conversation he asked me if I had "stuff," and I laughed and said that we smoked back in San Diego. He left and said that if anyone walked by and offered to sell any, to send the guy to him. Potheads are funny.

When the traffic finally started moving again, I noticed that the cute girl in the car next to us fell asleep in her car. I hesitated, but didn't knock on her window to tell her that the roadblock had lifted. As I pulled away, I noticed that her headlights never came back on.

Though we got back in South Sac by 7:30am, we didn't actually leave Jaime's house until after 10am.

EPIC

TROUBLES A-BREWIN

ROADTRIP.

so the plan during president's day weekend is to drive down to the other half of the state, the side I like more; a trip that will take us to orange county and to san diego. as it stands, those going will be me driving the explorer, my sister, and my cousin geno, and hopefully Alex can get the days off to come along with. i'm just glad that i'll have a chance to get out of this city. the change of setting will hopefully clear my head.

in light of this, i had this idea that one day, i want to gather together as many of the VOID artists that i know of residing in California and basically spend several days just kicking it with them. for instance, i could go get Zato, his brother Kura, Ju-Ju, and QTR and take them all down south to meet up with Fel, Molotov, Robosockmonkey, Jay, Pi, and whomever else lives in the southern area. it would be great. maybe this could happen when San Diego Comic-con hits, but i was thinking more like a time outside of a con; a RALLY of artists that i share a loyalty for VOID with.

I fear this day more so than my own birthday.

Apathy, self-loathing, spite, angst, bitterness, all that shit rolled into one within a span of 24 hours. And I thought the fear of turning 22 would get to me. Nope. Its the fear of being completely alone at a table of friends. Goddamn Bright Eyes lyrics are creeping into the back of my skull.

So what am I going to do. Last year, It was a weekend, so I was able to just meet up with my cousins and kick it with a few drinks. This time, its a fuckin Monday, the most inopportune day of the week. Eh, we'll see how the day unfolds. I really just want it to be done and over with, so that the President's Day weekend San Diego trip can be NOW. Actually, I just wish summer were now. Or at least year 40. Pull a string, fast forward through life, like that Saturday afternoon cartoon special. I thought I was done with that "EMO" thing. Guess I was wrong, eh? Hear I am, listening to a completely SOMBER album by Bright Eyes, having just drawn the most twisted thing my mind could conceive and wallowing.

WALLOWING LIKE FUCK.



This cough is killing me, made my thoughts scrambled. I went downstairs and consumed a cocktail of medicines to fight this hacking and sneezing. The scariest thing is, I stood there and contemplated taking 12 too many aspirin and whatever lay in front of me. And then I thought. No. Don't do that.

What would I have lived for? WHAT DO I LIVE FOR NOW?