Sometimes you don’t know what to do. Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve done. Sometimes you don’t care about any of that shit and you’re just hoping people are okay.
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Sometimes you don’t know what to do. Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve done. Sometimes you don’t care about any of that shit and you’re just hoping people are okay.
If I thought I was feeling sick during the holiday, I was wrong. Now I am feeling sick. Truly sick. No, I am not going to explain why… but my tiredness — my life-fatigue — has just increased by a factor of five. Or perhaps ten. Sometimes I dislike life intensely.
§ 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.)