Today I am here on earth, a teresstronaut setting the orbiting parameters for my own Personal Space Program.

Today I am going to cheat death by dying while I'm still alive. Right now. I am dead. Ric is dead. R.i.p. R.i.c. Don't worry, I will still be around, if you need me just send me an email or whatever. I will haunt the rest of my own "life", but I will not, cannot die twice. Especially nowadays. If my body eventually dies off (remember the old testament definition of death, "a person is not dead until the head is no longer part of the body, whether from being removed or by rotting off"), I will merely consider it as a type of agnostic resurrection. Reborn directly into the abyss.

Ah, this feels good already. I feel my fear of death diminishing with every second that I'm dead. It would be illogical to fear what has already passed.

Only when we are dead will we know what it is like to truly be alive.

Today I heard a man howl for his leg. I wondered what was under the biohazard ash. Then I went back for Nachos Grande.

Today I'm suddenly aware that I have not spoken much with "old friends" lately. I have not spoken with many new ones either. I am only speaking to strangers nowadays. This is the path of least resistance.

Today things are completely different. Yet there is still the same chain of events: action, circumstance, outcome... no matter the variables, things tend to run themselves at some point.

Today there are big things and small. Tuna Jazzarole: small. P-l-o-t: litter bigger. I googled myself and actually whispered, "what do they want from me?": getting bigger. I am an artistic director of a place: a big new thing.

Today a travesty at Stevenson University: Lecture Hall 10 has been covered in newspaper. The walls, tables, chairs, waste basket and podiums have all been neatly papered with the alternative weekly. The Stevenson faculty and administration are not taking this hi-jinx lightly:
"Whoever did this, if discovered, should be made to understood that there are consequences to all the actions we take"

If the newspaper bandit isn't found and "taken care of" soon, who knows what classroom could be next. My question is, can Stevenson
University ever recover from this kind of incident?