Music and booze… those are what keep me sane.
蕭
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倫
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When things matter to me, I am not at all sane…
How old am I now? Old enough to function, but not old enough to thrive. Will I ever reach some semblance of a transcendence? Do I want one? Didn’t I once scream at the top of my lungs,
“Mania, mania… Wherefore art thou, mania!?”
I still can’t help but travel underground; I still prefer to crawl. Old friends… are you still here, underground, with me? Or is the darkness mine like I want it to be? Like it shouldn’t be…
Ocd, ocd, ocd…
me.
(Oh well… everything is beautiful any old way… 😉
§ 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.)