Exciting things never happen much. Each day I grow a little older and do something a little odder in a vain attempt to remain youthful and fun. My efforts seem half-assed and fully unrealized. Time in the park today, was spent eating ice cream, looking at fish, poking dead fish with sticks, walking the tracks, climbing into abandoned tree-houses and throwing stones at trees. I am convinced this is the equivalent of being old and bald, sitting on a park bench with a giant bag of bread crumbs and feeding the geese.



I don't party like I used to, I don't abuse substances. I keep it within in limits because I want to drive. For some reason now that we are older we need to have a home base to come back too. In Uni crashing on someone's floor was as simple as passing out, now it involves blow up mattresses, pillows and sleeping attire. Does growing up mean you just stop doing things in excess?