modest desires have become my most valuable treasures. i’ve long suffered from delusions of grandeur bounded by structural unmanageability, and divorcing myself from that i’ve found a way to live inside my moments instead of around them. my personal manifesto has never been so dangerous, outlined by a theoretical license to live. happily, quietly. stagnancy is death. connect the dots, i am a constellation, a pattern of stars on a scatter plot and my hair keeps getting stuck in the wall. the music is investigative, formless and physiological. extra sensory arousal touching the void. true love is rigorously honest, and only children know how to do that. psychology is advanced, but fight or flight is still primal, so basically life is rigged for pain. and i'm not the trademark of any religion, enterprise, or constitution. i'm leaving the lush island of verisimilitude for lands of sustainable courage.

1 comment:

  1. wow.

    love your writing.
    and i love that vocabulary.

    was thinking about you in a weird comparative way to these older ladies i hung out with last night. i am in love with this spitfire of a lady who works public health, can meet people at their level, and is incredibly crass...but has so much fucking depth to her and is one of the most brilliant people i know.

    so that's you. something like that anyway. and at least that's what i think you're gonna be more like as you age.