Getting into dangerous territory. It’s 2:43 in the afternoon. I’m going to bed, for lack of anything else to do, and for lack of any hope of anything else happening. I can’t face life for the rest of today. Thus, I will bury my face in a pillow. I am losing my cool and my health. I’ll have white hair by the time next year rolls around.
I miss my friends. I miss being a student. I miss not feeling like I’m in a pressure cooker all the time.
§ 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.)