Could not sleep at all for no reason in particular. Okay, there is a reason: stress. Too many things all at once. I feel like I have my fingers in 100 different pies and I’m in danger of losing track of all of them.
Deadlines of all kinds are not just approaching, they are here, and I am not ready for them.
And the result is that I can’t possibly sleep. Instead, I just toss and turn.
—
§ 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.)