This will serve as my journalistic contribution to reporting on the Royal Wedding

Disclaimer: the following entry was written in my notebook an undisclosed period of time ago. Not only does it seem more vain and self-centered than usual, but it has become outmoded. I don't think it accurately reflects my current state of mind, my attitude towards others, or my attitude towards my own living. However, there are a few kernels of well-intentioned thought within, and - more importantly - this passage represents a flux of thought that I have begun to embrace. I mean, purely for the sake of the flux. Hopefully, when compared to past and future writings, the following words will represent but a moment in time. Nothing more. (Also, I haven't written on here in awhile, so I felt like I should put something up. It's pretty short anyway.)

I see a guy on the #57 bus with a waxed mustache, a goatee, and long hair under a beret. He's also wearing a blazer. I'm thinking that this guy is the cheesiest goddamn stereotype in the world, especially with that pensive-brooding look on his face.

I used to dress "weirdly." I wore and combined styles that I thought no one else wore, and I may have been right. For awhile, I wore '60s checked polyester pants with T-shirts. Later, when playing guitar for Send More Cops, I always wore black pleated trousers and outrageously-patterned '70s button-downs with only the widest of lapels. These styles felt to me to be truly unique, and maybe they were... but after living in Boston for a period of time (and even growing a mustache years before it become ironic in Allston; I thought it was fucking funny and classy), I became conscious of playing a role. No matter how unique my style was, it became a substitute - and not an aid - for more authentic living.

So I decided I might as well just wear jeans, vaguely follow the trends, and blend in. It's more or less worked, hasn't it? Now all the weirdness I tried to outwardly display has been pushed back inside....