There's an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar. |
There’s a terrible dark joy when the only person who knows all your secrets is finally dead. |
There’s always the chance you could die right in the middle of your life story |
Think of a rock polisher, one of those drums, goes round and round, rolls twenty four/seven, full of water and rocks and gravel. Grinding it all up. Round and round. Polishing those ugly rocks into gemstones. That's the earth. Why it goes around. We're the rocks. And what happens to us- the drama and pain and joy and war and sickness and victory and abuse- why, that's just the water and sand to erode us. Grind us down. To polish us up, nice and bright. |
Think of spoiled cat food and ulcerated cankers and expired donor organs. That's how beautiful she looks. |
This is fish number six hundred and forty-one in a lifetime of goldfish. My parents bought me the first one to teach me about loving and caring for another living breathing creature of God. Six hundred and forty fish later, the only thing I know is everything you love will die. The first time you meet that someone special, you can count on them one day being dead and in the ground. |
To preserve yourself as the center of the world, to stay your own best authority on everything, your own expert on all topics, infallible, omniscient. Always, every time of the month, forever: Use birth control. |
To the World He Was a Loser But to Me He Was the World. |
Torture is torture and humiliation is humiliation only when you chose to suffer. |
Trying the way we do every time we look in a mirror to figure out exactly who that person is. |
Unless everything can get worse, it won’t get any better. |
Us. God's forgotten Science Fair project, left to grow mold. God's goldfish, ignored until we're forced to eat our own shit off the bottom. |
Watching white moon face The stars never feel anger Blah, Blah, Blah, the end. |
We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will. |
We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. |