I can never remember street names navigating strictly by landmarks taking left turns just past abandoned doughnut shops impugning me to keep my marriage
When I run out of things to do I write an itinerary: When all else fails fill sandbags to convert
People think artists are painting, dancing, writing, or… when really they’re all whistling past the graveyard
In the face of loss I staved off loss of control by gainsaying a loss for words
Past– I know what I want Therefore, I need someone to tell… so I can go ahead and do it Present–
It was always an intriguing though… to imagine knowing the date of you… until AI in a thought experiment of its own reimagined death
The culture war is a secret weapon in the class war which the haves use to keep the have nots
Given the current nostalgia for shared reality we shouldn’t forget that peak shared reality was mutually assured destruction
Language is great for Letting us tell each other Where it hurts And you keep telling me It hurts when I don’t listen
No one seems to see (least of all me) that being all you can be isn’t about clutching superiority– it’s for abjuring mediocrity
Social media– the bureaucracy of the people– is an eternal now where you always have just enough time
The closest I ev– er came to forming Voltron was using Groupon
Keep your friends close your enemies closer and your neighbor closest
No one who desires to be good believes themselves good; all those who believe themselves g… do so in service of their true desire
The never-ending apocalyptic refra… may just be yet another version of death’s denial: The world must be ending