The sheer amount of text available to me astounds. It would appear that I owe myself the right to language. How else do I pay hommage to those that were here before me? However, I don't quite understand where to begin. Read? Listen? Watch? I'm tired of all that. I've been forced upon since the beginning of way back when. I'm tired of the staples. I want out of the cannon which education has supplied for me. I'm out for obscurity, I'm out for blood. I will find the time to read, and I will find the time to read what I want. I will find the time to read what I want when I want.

I want it now, but we have come to learn that now is rearely ever now. It should've been sooner than now but I appear to be a victim of education. I wish I could take all the knowledge in the world and upload it via USB cable and just remain perfectly intuned. Reading takes time and that is the most prescious resource of all. I have not a moment to spare, not while my eyes are still wide as pie and twice as infinite. I must not forget to return to the predertimined. Rather, I must not forget to return to the predetermined with an eye for the undetermined.

I owe it to myself to document that which was and could be. I owe it to what is. And that leaves no time right now for reading. That leaves time only for living. Living every day. Writing every day. This is my one-a-day multi-vitamin, and until then...

Language, you elude me.