I keep thinkin’ there’s a fire in the fireplace that I didn’t light.
It’s always one of the cats, licking her shoulder, flickering.
I don’t ask why the one gets confused with the other in the front and back of my mind.
Cats are not like fire, nor fire like cats.
The absence of bondage to normal Earthly fears that I’ve killed are giving me nightmares.
I usually don’t remember them. I just wake up fearless, still, and exhausted.
When a bird flies into a window, now, I look at it, and in my mind, I only shrug.
I shrug in my mind.
The reason for that is that nagging question: why should I go through the physical act of shrugging?
I used to feel fear and shock and concern for the bird.
Now, I know he’s just another living creature on the assembly line toward death.
And, if he wants to spend some of that time unconscious in my front yard, who am I to intervene?
What if there is a really advanced civilization nearby, or God? Either shows up, and there’s only one thing you can know, and that is that you are stupid. That God, or that something greater, is what we follow, because we are so easily programmed by nature to follow leaders.
And some leaders are not leaders at all; they are simply entities or non-entities that we ascribe depth of meaning and power upon or into.
I have lead a few times and believe I do it well, yet my own hate for authority pushes me naturally out of leadership positions.
I’m anti-authority, and no authority cares until they try to exercise authority over me.
Egos. Testosterone. Estrogen. Spicy food.
Ron is anti-establishment. He knows that the whole thing is rigged, and he’s not letting anybody get away with a fucking thing, ever.
Love is sweet-tasting, pink lemonade, as long as it is served in a glass, with ice, on a warm day with perfect weather, when you’re thirsty.
My head aches, roughly. Everything below it is in a state of accelerated dying.
I wish when I died, I could keep my brain alive in a jar for a while until I was actually tired of thinking.
Have you noticed that all the fears you have, or almost all of them, never materialize? How many have killed you?
A baby will love you, then like and love you, then love and hate you, then hate you, then love you, then love you for the rest of your life.
We have five senses that we know of. Do you realize that, biologically, the number of potential senses is endless? What if an adjacent society has 22 or 545 senses? You cannot imagine that, can you? I could, because I’ll just start guessing and never stop. Until my brain is in the jar, and I've imagined them all.
Pork is not the other white meat.
How can somebody praise God emphatically for letting them live as they survive a tornado, while claiming that they are a christian who is promised a castle in the sky, where there is no pain or traffic jams or sprained ankles.
We're so limited. So, so limited.