My thoughts are ineffable these days. As I zoomed up and down the ramp where Western Ave flies over the intersection of Belmont and Clybourn, I caught a glimpse of the skyline and marveled. An electronic version of the first few bars of Bruce Hornsby and the Range's "The Way It Is" played through my speakers, and I couldn't help but wonder about life.

Ponder this passage that ran through my mind after I filled my tank at the corner of Damen and Augusta:

I do not want to be one of those madmen who get cut down in their prime because they are trying to tell the Truth. I have no aspirations for a John the Baptist-like beheading, to be served on a silver platter. For one thing, I'm not sure there is anything I believe in strongly enough to die for. If there were, it would be another matter. If there was something I knew was utterly true, and to deny it would destroy me, then I would embrace a martyr's death with arms wide open.

So I suppose that my wish, at 4:44pm (Yes I am a superstitious man) is to either give me that certainty so that I might die with my heart peaceful and calm, or to show me what path my life should take. And I can't help but remember that "only hope can keep me together. Love can mend your life, but love can break your heart."

Nothing makes sense these days. I just do what they tell me. ::sigh::