Trajectory

One of my top five albums of all time:

Derek and the Dominoes "Layla Sessions."

And if I could choose a place to die, it would be in your arms

You know while taking the driver's test, there's a bit in there about the danger of driving while experiencing intense emotions.

I honestly feared being ticketed one afternoon because of the combined wail of Clapton and my tears was overwhelming.

It's all wrong, but it's alright, the way that you treat me, baby.

In the last month I've had two people ask me what the hell kind of good do I think I'm doing for the world by sitting around reading books and taking classes. Two people have told me that I'm insecure and succumbing to the cycle of year after year of teachers teaching students who learn so they can teach. I'm limiting myself to what institutions yield.

That's not real life: that's idealism and conjecture.

Once I was strong, but I lost the fight, and you won't find a better loser.

I was told I'm scared and that's why I don't find things out for myself, but instead allow other people to tell me truth.

Well, if I'm not supposed to go to graduate school and become a professor, then what is the plan?

Why do people disdain my decisions and give me a complex?

Bell-bottom blues, don't say goodbye; I'm sure we're gonna meet again.

There's a sensation on your tongue when taking a bite of sushi that lets you know the fish is a little off. It's not texture and not the flavor, but it's only detectable as a sensation alone, and not as anything really tangible. After this sensation, you know, it's like you have no trouble resisting finishing your sushi because you know it will come back on you for the next two and a half days. No matter how hungry you are, you can resist, because that sensation is not worth the risk of ignoring.

And if we do, don't you be surprised if you find me with another lover.

Maybe any of the rest of you could finish my sushi and never detect a thing, and never become ill, and from the sushi feel satisfaction and fulfillment.

It doesn't matter. Psychosematic responses cannot be disputed. I'm not hungry anymore. My tongue had this sensation.

Do you wanna see me crawl across the floor?

How do you explain to someone that they are a sketchy piece of sushi?

Do you wanna hear me beg you to take me back?

Suddenly raw fish and sticky rice won't cut it, and all you can think about is a slice of pepperoni. It's like you always wanted the slice. You tell that slice, too, that you never really wanted salmon rolls. Who wants wassabi, baby, when there's parmesan and garlic?

I'll gladly do it; 'cause I don't wanna fade away

I have to be able to trust my instincts. I have to be permitted to rely on myself. I've been dissapointed by a lot of people. Not dissapointed, and I'm not talking about anyone who reads this, but let down in the spirit-crushing sense. If I ever kept eating my sushi after feeling a sensation that the fish might be a little off and ended up getting violently ill, I would break my own heart worse than anyone else has. And I fear I would never forgive myself.

Don't tell me how good the sushi is.

I'm eating pizza, and that's final.

no, Todd, it's not worth a kick in the stomach to get what I need from him.