Looking down streets in Philadelphia at night. The streets are illuminated in blotches and the end is obliterated by dark; this sort of thing makes me think that life might be able to go on forever. I'm not really sure why I feel this way. Seeing it makes me want to leave and go with it into that infinity. Sometimes I feel like I should constantly be moving.

I'm not really sure what I want these days. Not much seems achievable if it goes beyond art. Not much seems stable.
This is not meant to be a negative post, I don't think.
I really want to do more and more with my life. I'm excited to go to the ocean tomorrow.
I've been having more weird dreams that take place in my old house in Gibbsboro when we had a pond. Mainly, they take place in the basement.
In one, I knocked on the wall of the basement and someone knocked back. We continued this knocking game until I realized the only thing on the other side of the wall could be dirt. The person knocking turned out to be above ground and he was an imagined neighbor.
In another, my basement looked like a warehouse almost and there was an exodus of ants and beetles all crawling in the same direction. They looked like the leaves I saw blowing across the pavement earlier that day.
In this one, I came out of my basement and shook hands with Scott Westerfeld in my back yard, and then he told me I had to draw-- just a sketch-- of a girl in the rain and she had to be standing in water that only just covers up to the top of her feet. He tried demonstrating this by going into the pond, but he was wading too far in and I freaked out because of a crocodile sleeping at the bottom. He didn't understand and nothing else really happened.