Two papers submitted, two tests taken, one car washed. That’s my weekend so far, starting with Friday. Tuesday, I deliver a monologue again. *pffffft* Spent all day today doing my taxes, only to find (shudder) that I owe the lovely old I.R.S. about $5,500 this year, the lion’s share being the lovely “self employment” taxes that the federal government levies. I haven’t calculated my Utah state tax responsibility yet. Well… I suddenly feel a lot more broke. Combine that with tuition, books, and the tranny rebuild from my Los Angeles trip, and I’ll have written checks for at least $11,000 in the first quarter of this year, and I still don’t have a house, an apartment, or even a PlayStation. Yow! I definitely don’t feel like I have this much money. I guess (laugh) that now I don’t. *sigh* Anybody wanna buy a used Aron?
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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.)