This is Nathaniel. I apologize for not having written lately but such is only one among my many human faults, and easily forgotten, which is just about the same as easily forgiven.

I was at the zoo the other day and was enjoying myself thoroughly until one of the zookeepers happened upon me and mistook me for an escaped marmosaur. He chased me around for half an hour with a butterfly net before I deceived him into approaching and delivered a hard roundhouse kung fu kick to his face. I ruined his good looks.

After the zoo adventure we stopped by Pirate’s to have a few beers, then spilled our bodily fluids into the tip jar and ran off in a mad fashion, digging through our garments as we did in search of obscene human features which we could wave about. At that point we were too far gone for further recollection: All I know is that the next morning I left a trail of puddling fluid behind me wherever I went which smelled like novelty pudding, the origin of which I could not find by any probing. It still remains a mystery.

But to the present: Another school year at UCSD has ended, a year which I should have had nothing to do with and yet hell, I find myself here again. There will be a break from my duties, during which time I will no longer be exposed to the youth-laden oxygen to which I have become accustomed. I worry what changes, physiologically, this might bring. As much as I try to carry myself otherwise, the truth of the matter is that I am an old man, and I must assume that this truth will make itself ever more apparent in the coming days. The only word to describe my death is ‘imminent.’ I suppose that is the case for us all.

In the meantime, expect more updates from me soon. I will try to include photographs, probably of assorted leafs and fences, but I can and will make no promises. I hope you do not hold this against me. My center is fragile: Your good will means everything to me.

PS. If you were not already aware, I have taken a high recommendation to apply to be on the next season of the hit television show Survivor, where seven ghastly castaways vie to see who is the best and also to win the prize. My violence would make perfect television, and so long as I deprive the American public of this I am living in some manner of sin. But I do not mean to shame myself.