somber omnibus

You would not say that it was abrupt exactly.  Nor would you characterize this simple shift (in activities and priorities) as in any way slow or plodding.  It was just an alignment that occurred accidentally, or as some would say organically, in the last months of my senior year.  This neighborhood's fatigue with the professional excuses, that family's impatience with their prodigious son's inability to muscle his talents into anything more profitable than a freak show, and an untenable attitude of certainty that was spreading like desperation among the soldiers and diplomats, laity and clergy in the wake of a religion so easily abandoned...

I had looked earlier at both my nausea and hunger.  Without  Zero Cpimstfari

                                                                                                                                                                    I stopped reading.  The novels had become a hungry repetition, a sickness of slick cleverness that seemed to always try to find that middle ground between proving the author's intelligence while maintaining its pedestrian credentials.  Accessability, as it were, had become more important to the yellowing pages than a great as it were and maintaining some everyman                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             I stopped reading, the hallucinations that formed my psyche