Got my car back… Flew to Las Vegas Wednesday afternoon and was back by 11:30 in the evening. Forgot my faceplate, though, so I had to drive all that way in silence — no CDs or radio. Meanwhile, the current two trakcs that I listen to over and over: “High Life” by Counting Crows and “John I Love You” by Sinead O’Connor.
§ As you get older, the ghosts become more real than anything else.
§ Under the leaves, soil. Under the soil, stone. Under the stone, souls.
§ Radically empowering individuals in society may be the worst mistake we ever made.
§ Want to be a radical? Refuse to suffer. Then, wait for the assault.
§ Goodbye 2017, part two. (The real part.)
§ Sometimes you find home where you’ve never been—and you dwell where you aren’t.
§ The self can’t play Atlas for postmodernity because science is now supernatural.
§ Rehab is universal. So is history.
§ Identity, transcendence, and tactics.
§ Untitled. (a.k.a. Pretty faces, new old photos.)