I am increasingly fascinated by the history of the medieval period.
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The modern, capitalist west is a thin world. It is endlessly complex, vibrant, and intense, but it is thin, like a plate of tempered glass—shimmering, blue, ultra-refined, yet insubstantial.
Every now and then I catch hints of a thicker world. Sometimes I can even—for a moment—imagine what it must feel like to live in it. It is not an either/or proposition—one does not choose between the two. Rather, the thick world is the one that stands on either side of the tempered glass window; it extends infinitely in all directions, and is of much more varied and richer substance. What it lacks in refinement it repays in meaning.
It is my goal to see beyond the thin world and to ultimately inhabit the thick one as well, without losing sight of either.
§ 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.)