and read Tu Fu
without feeling deeply—impossibly—moved.
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Today I don’t like New York. It has a strange and alien feeling to it, like I’ve just landed for the first time.
—
School is empty, work is empty, home is empty. That is the sort of state of affairs that makes it easy to lose one’s head. I don’t quite know what to do, what I want to do right now. I should be working, either at work working or on a paper working.
Instead I am simply at a loose end.
Sometimes one gets too busy or too hassled to notice it, but life is good. It’s just a beautiful thing in general, graceful and hard and tender and familiar and lovely.
I like it a lot and the older I get, the more look forward to every day.
§ 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.)