it’s 4.47 in the morning and I don’t know what’s real or what’s fake, whether I’m even in chicago or salt lake city or new york or what I look like or sound like or who is real or who is imagined in my mind
everything has been a dream
i wake up from a more detailed reality and find the resulting transition to be disorienting and my actual life and memory, for a few minutes, to be unclearly bounded
i didn’t want to wake up just now
terror lethargy regret bewilderment
loss
§ 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.)