Here's an interesting question: Is it possible to be passionate about nothing in particular yet still be a passionate person?

I've always thought of myself as a passionate person, and have been described that way in the past, but last night, when asked to name what I'm passionate about, I found myself unable to do so. For a couple of years I've skated by with this notion that I am passionate, and therefore of course I'm crazy about some thing or another. I used to get worked up about brewing, writing, films, words, good books, but it's been a long time since I've had this sensation.

Maybe I'm passionate about intentions. Bad or good, I have them.

These three years since I left college have taken a toll. Talking with Lee about these itches I used to have, failed to scratch for so long, and have since forgotten about, and then reading about Exchange City, I realize I've been suckered into that ridiculous adult world.

I've lost much of my individuality, I've joined the "working world", become a productive member of society, and turned in my counterculture badge. Where's the emergency exit?


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