Is Soundgarden, 4th of July.
Beer of the moment (on lunchbreak) is Rogue’s Dead Guy.
I’m at a loose end in life right now.
I can’t walk on glass, I can’t swallow fire, and I can’t levitate. There are stars in the sky, but I can’t see them for the atmosphere and our own sun.
Dandy.
Sour, sour, sour, sour
dandy.
Nothing in the world terrifies me so much as other peoples’ secrets.
§ 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.)