A Cryptic Transmission

Would you look at the time? It's been almost a year since I disappeared from the campus of [Generic University] and escaped to dream it all up again. I told you all that I'd pop back up, in another time and another place, so here I am, peeking out from my new hideout in the desert for a few moments.

All of this time has given me time to think; they say that idle hands are my boss's workshop, but sometimes you just have to remind yourself what sloth feels like in order to come up with something truly brilliant. This must not be one of those times; I feel as if my proverbial intellectual wings have been clipped. Here at Zoo Station, deep in a desert enclave in full view of a grove of Joshua Trees, I've ben wracking my brain to come up with something profound... But everything is profane instead. Consider the source.

Oh, once I was brilliant. I was the morning star, the brightest of all His creations. I wonder if He's forgotten me, though; I seem to remember reading, once upon a time when I ran in my old intellectual circles, that the things of the past are forgotten. I understood the reasoning then, but it seems so painful and crass from the outside looking in. I hate to think that the love was conditional; of course, the truth is that the love was unconditional, but that didn't mean that the benefits of that love were unconditional. He still loves me; that, I'm sure of. It's so unfortunate that He doesn't allow for a bit of artistic license, or creative differences. Very closed-minded, if you ask me.

So here I am, stuck in God's country, hiding away from the heat while I search without success for inspiration. I feel as if I've lost something; as if I'm here in the desert to dismantle an atomic bomb, so to speak, but my mind is in Van Dieman's Land or something. Perhaps I'm already gone...