My life is worth 10 boxes, 2 guitars and a suitcase. For the better part of the past decade, I've been a terminal nomad at war with the pathological loyalty that binds me to people, places and things I know will ultimately only be passing phases in the grand adventure, whatever that turns out to be. A nicotine haze feeds insomniac thoughts as I pass the time watching movies on the couch that is no longer mind in the apartment that is no longer mine with the man that is no longer mine. My goodbyes - by subconscious design - have always been quick, painless, rip off the Band-Aid and don't look back. This one draws out with all the glamour of a lingering illness, and I find myself going through the motions of a life that is no longer mine as well.

We are all transitory, searching for meaning and permanence wherever we see even a passing glimmer, inventing it if we must. There is purpose in this world, but I can't for the life of me pinpoint what it is beyond the burning in my chest that pushes synapses into thought into word into calloused fingers dragging pencil across page in frantic attempts to create that all important meaning we all crave so much with almost biological fervor. To create a connection. To somehow capture that intangible something that truly defines as us human. If I can just do that, if I can just hit on that elusive combination of emotion, logic, language, interaction and capture the essence of humanity in the gilded cage of inspiration, then... Well, then it will all make sense.

10 boxes. 2 guitars. And a suitcase. Standing like a memorial over everything that no longer is. My soul has said its goodbyes and made its exit, leaving my body waiting at the gate for the next flight out.

In movies, there are moments. Significant because the writer and directer have included them, and the rules tell us if we see it, it means something. The hero and heroine get caught in the rain and run laughing to safety. She shares a quirky anecdote; he does something sweetly awkward, and we know. It's still early on, but we know by closing credits they'll be living happily ever after. My quest is finding those moments in life, those plot cues we overlook because there isn't a soundtrack or a close up to point the way. It's these moments that we forget that create who we really are, much more so than the climaxes that ultimately draw our attention. It is these moments that we finally remember when the ash has finally settled and the pieces all fallen to the floor. It is these moments that could drive us mad if we let them.