No energy to say it.
I’ve said it all before over all these years.
A person’s life is like a melody; there may be variations here and there as it plays out, but the basic melody remains the same.
— § —
The alphabet song will always be for me both beautiful and tragic.
— § —
Another tic mark on the wall. For what it’s worth.
If I was an extrovert, I’d be typing paragraphs and paragraphs here right now. But instead, my inner self wants nothing more than to stop typing. So I will.
§ 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.)