Holding down the 253

Lately when I've found myself in groups of people I have been looking around me and thinking, "Who are they and where did they come from?" I've spent so much of my life knowing the same damn people. Until last year I could guarantee that in any group I would check my surroundings and have an extensive history with most of the characters. Now if I stop paying attention for too long I have new friends whose names I forget and who are humping my leg or making otherwise unwanted advances on me (P.S. Where are you with the wanted advances?). At most I've known these people for about a year and a half, at least I met them several hours ago. At most they are incredibly awesome people, at least they make me want to run my dick through a paper shredder. Sometimes these are the same people. But it's fantastic. I like realizing over UC fish and chips that I didn't even know these ones until a few months ago. I like having Thanksgiving with crazy sons a bitches, none of whom are related to me, most of whom I didn't know existed a week ago, none of whom asked me what I was thankful for, one of whom made a trifle containing Shrek twinkies. It's kind of empowering too. I could move to Abilene, Texas and become a homeless cowboy with a posse of midget ballernias by next week if I wanted to. In high school I never could have imagined my completely alternate life. I still have my old friends, but this is a brand new reality. Like a reset button that you only push part of the way or like the dude in charge of your reincarnation was new to the business and did a half-assed job. And this will just keep happening until I'm an old man on a park bench. This Triad business is a good idea, though...keeps me sane, reminds me I know people that I really know, makes me nostalgic. Is it almost Christmas? I'm ready for old fashioned creative Midwest entertainment, some serious catching up, and some damn grilled cheese and snow.