(no subject)
people are dropping like flies. there is no one in the world left next to me and i am almost relieved to remember that there was no one to begin with.
found one last, lonely amphetamine desperately hiding beneath the bookshelf. so i will go on one last, lonely rampage to keep myself at bay one more time.
one love, one passion, one force?
love is always the same self-indulgent emotion projected onto interchangeable and indiscriminate objects? we just want to reflect our own egos and glorify ourselves by proxy?
this idea is awful and stunted, even if great people said it.
we are breaking and re-making all the time and no feeling is ever the same. how can it be?
universal disinterested love is not the same as a delusional passion stemming from a narcissistic need to be affirmed. but they are both disappointing.
or maybe it's by weakness? more comfortable, less pressure? it's easier to believe in one's own imagination than in the virtue of a fiercely autonomous being?
maybe. but surely i'm not the only one to prefer authenticity. if this is the way it is then i don't care.
nothing is everything and vice versa.
we drove to normandy in the camion de chevaux with broken spedometer and fuel tank monitor.
i spent lots of time playing with one baby Quali, 3 weeks old and full of stitches thanks to his premature naissance. he is very thin and wobbly--all legs, knobby knees and a tiny muzzle that fits into one hand.
found one last, lonely amphetamine desperately hiding beneath the bookshelf. so i will go on one last, lonely rampage to keep myself at bay one more time.
one love, one passion, one force?
love is always the same self-indulgent emotion projected onto interchangeable and indiscriminate objects? we just want to reflect our own egos and glorify ourselves by proxy?
this idea is awful and stunted, even if great people said it.
we are breaking and re-making all the time and no feeling is ever the same. how can it be?
universal disinterested love is not the same as a delusional passion stemming from a narcissistic need to be affirmed. but they are both disappointing.
or maybe it's by weakness? more comfortable, less pressure? it's easier to believe in one's own imagination than in the virtue of a fiercely autonomous being?
maybe. but surely i'm not the only one to prefer authenticity. if this is the way it is then i don't care.
nothing is everything and vice versa.
we drove to normandy in the camion de chevaux with broken spedometer and fuel tank monitor.
i spent lots of time playing with one baby Quali, 3 weeks old and full of stitches thanks to his premature naissance. he is very thin and wobbly--all legs, knobby knees and a tiny muzzle that fits into one hand.