I can promise a hundred entries tomorrow, each more drunken than the last.
I should have bought the Dostoevsky.
Morgens: LAX.
蕭
耀
倫
耀
倫
a
r
o
6e
d
g
2 l
p
a
n
r
o
6e
d
g
2 l
p
a
n
I can promise a hundred entries tomorrow, each more drunken than the last.
I should have bought the Dostoevsky.
Morgens: LAX.
nothing is forever
but sometimes you can’t tell the difference
between forever and right now
anyway
and you hold your whisky bottle high
because you are the last young hotshot before the crash
these are the best years of your life
and you smile
tip your hat
know that you will live
on
in a thousand
faded
photographs
§ 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.)