I feel r e a l l y s t r a n g e .
Like nothing is real. I came back to I-House earlier from being out and I started working on setting up a VM or two so that I can do my summer work, but then by accident I got caught up reading old entries and then the lights went dim and the air got fresh or something.
Did it rain?
I don’t know who to call. I think I’m just gonna go to bed, things are off-color and I don’t want to try to figure it all out or wade through it, working.
§ 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.)