two years ago i read ayn rand's the fountainhead. well, not really read, but got 200 pages from the end. it wasn't that it didn't interest me because it was the best damn book i had read in a long time, but as i recall, i think i got swept up in a bunch of other stuff and ignored the book. needless to say, it's pointless to try to go back and i regret it everyday that i never finished it. so now i'm reading her other masterpiece, so to speak, atlas shrugged and i must say, this woman is a genius. objectivism should be adopted into our constitution. atlas shrugged deals with the immortal query "who is john galt?", and 478 pages into the book, it reads, "john galt is prometheus who changed his mind. after centuries of being torn by vultures in payment for having brought to men the fire of the gods, he broke his chains - he withdrew his fire - until the day when men withdraw their vultures." and you have to admire him, ayn rand, the philosophy, the whole shit of it all. though he's fictional, john galt set out to stop the motor, the essence, the very workings of the world, and did. to take everything and make it nothing so that the destitute nature of mankind isn't taken for granted. who is john galt?

i may be the only one that makes sense to. well, scratch that. it doesn't even make sense to me. i've decided to post my thoughts after months of just scribbling words and phrases and my thoughts on random papers, my laptop, or journals. as semisonic sings in "closing time" [if i can remember correctly, it is semisonic] - every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.