There is a wind chime right outside of my motherís house. I believe I bought it with my sister Erin, at Ace hardware. A birthday present. And now I am here before I fly out to Alaska, and I listen to it, the sounds are almost beach boys pet sounds, 1,000 good sounds that a human never heard before all created by nature.

I am sitting here in relatively perfect freedom, which is weird because as a human you want to hide your freedom from your mother, and I do, but I mean, at least she knows we need it, and I have it.

One of the first times in a long time I have been plugged in, meaning the computer, the internet, god I am one of those kids you need to keep away from it.

What are you doing?

Who are you?

Your interviewer

I donít need that; I am perfectly well at telling a story my self.

So anyways. I bought a bottle, and hid it in my car, just a little one, and I hid it with my chew and all the evil things that we do.

Then what did you do?

Fuck let me tell this story. Where do you come from, just chill before I make you look like a gas station fire if you know what I mean.

There is a wind chime right out of my window, my sliding glass window. Playing the music of my life. There is constant noise, not the wind chime, but wind all the time, the ocean crashing, and the stars are like stars you never seen before. And this is how I start, move forward and kiss the darkness that wraps me like a quilt, this is how I love you Alaska, you whore, you oyster