In an ordinary-seeming conversation last night, I discovered the meaning of my life. It is deceptively simple. The packaging resembles that of a Pokemon action figure, full of bright blues and pinks, swarming with love and cuteness and obviousness. I am, you see, simultaneously attracted and repulsed by everything. I am no sooner stirred up by new realizations than I am depressed by the dullness of the posibilities. This is because everything reminids me of death. Scott, you were right.