Godalmighty, I feel like hell. Headaches, stomach aches, liver aches, lung aches, the inability to breathe or sleep. Plus, I’m lonely and I live by myself. No optimism for the weekend. I am not even looking forward to leaving. Who wants to come home to an empty house, and share with it an empty Friday, Saturday, and Sunday?
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§ 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.)