All my friends quit their jobs. There's seven of us floating in space calculating the next move and none of us know what's next. I reconnected with the pals tonight and we sat together for 6 hours in the corner of a bar and talked business and that devolved into laughter and that devolved into discussions of nihilism and politics and that devolved into dreams and we shared dreams and tonight was good. It was a night spent with other lost crazies. But the good kind of lost. And the good kind of crazy. Be a ski instructor, rent a cabin in Tahoe in the snow for the winter, strive for political change, rent employees, drove from South Africa to Cairo through Somalia, go to a bus stop in Dubai, eat dim sum in Hong Kong, Patagonia, Antarctica, not too long in Iceland, convince the billionaires to finally fucking do something useful with their god damn money and help the hundreds of homeless in this city of negligence and greed, fuck burning man, fuck those who aspire to preach at Ted talks, fuck the fools who wish to live forever, we can only devote ourselves to change, what happened to going to a sports store and buying a soccer ball and just eating at a McDonald's in a strip mall? We're a band of idiots with dreams and I want fucking to do something meaningful and I'm going to find it and I'm going to commit myself to a greater purpose beyond my stupid selfish wants. That search takes work. Fuck laziness. Fuck complacency. Saying Warrior doesn't make me a warrior. Actions not words. The reckless souls. I'm going to find them