A few sidestreets ( Read more... )

"Why does Being get 'concieved' 'proximally' in terms of the present-at-hand and not in terms of the ready-to-hand, which indeed lies closer to us? Why does this reifying always keep coming back to exercise its dominion? What positive structure does the Being of 'consciousness' have, if reification remains inappropriate to it? Is the 'distinction' ( Read more... )

And there are the moments where we shine in our own muddled brilliance; our own sulking desperation. But what matters is the fact that we don't give a shit. Not one. Not one ( Read more... )

Sometimes, just sometimes, I love Parisians. It seems only to be those who walk the streets at night. Those who go where Eagles dare. Or those who just like getting home or chillin' out wasted ( Read more... )

Ok, would you all stop doing cool stuff while I'm gone? Damnit! You're not supposed to have so much fun while I'm gone. Come on, where's the heart?!?

"The first love disappears, but never goes. That ache becomes reconciliation.

But then--for example, I drank: but young people don't really drink, they swallow, producing instant piss. It's only later that the liquid you pour down your throat backs up.

Ah, then--you walk, you weep, you vomit--you stink; your prick rises up, and you jerk it off ( ( Read more... )

I love when Monday nights feel like Sunday nights. It is 8 and the sun is still up and I've been wearing shorts and a tank top all day. The next two weeks are vacation and I couldn't be happier. A good debut to the vacation as well, I would say. A massive party that, apart from the Parisian girl(s) puking in the bathroom, went off without a hitch ( Read more... )

Some things I really like about my life/Paris ( Read more... )

( going away on a strange day )

A few fragmentary highlights of the last week ( Read more... )