Duchesse De Borgonne: Best Beer Ever.
(By my calculation.
all that matters. To any of you.)

Duchesse De Borgonne: Best Beer Ever.
(By my calculation.
all that matters. To any of you.)
There are places I’ll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I’ve loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
Four bottles. Three for later.
One
for
now.
Maribel? Where are you, Maribel? And where are the dandelions and where is the powder? I grow tired of this game, Maribel…
All classes for winter quarter 2004 are over. You would think I’d be as emotionally invested as ever in my continuing to edge ever closer to a life in post-acadamia. But I’m not. I don’t feel all misty and I didn’t go and have myself a celebratory cigar or anything of the sort. In fact, I wandered straight home and hit the sack because I’d got up too early after spending all night analyzing films that I own and love.
—
Things I did today that probably weren’t as nice as they could have been:
That’s not too bad, actually, for an entire day. I feel a lot better now.
—
I don’t feel all that healthy today. In fact, I feel distinctly unhealthy. I need to get back to living the way I have been the last few weeks, instead of living the way I have been this week.
I also need to clean up my space and get my papers done so that they don’t weigh on me.
§ 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.)