There are two kinds of light - the glow that illuminates, and the glare that...– James Thurber
It’s like for once our bodies weren’t made out of skin but metal, something thinner but more rotund.\It’s like for once we don’t breathe because we have to, but we breathe for the sake of not dying.\It’s like for once our bulbs flicker on purpose.\It’s like for once we would take dirt over all the rhinestones.\It’s like for once I’ll fashion you...
While I sleep and I write and I pine and I type There’s still no context in breathin’ Through the moon and the stars and the fragrance of Mars There’s still a bite size of god to believe in While we cough and we joke and we stomach and smoke There’s still a freezer burn scar of achievement There’s still a few men worth deceiving Now here’s jealous...
You’re standing there, all power, light, and determined speed; it just isn’t fair to not say anything. Not saying anything would be a lie because, as it so often is, it’s just right there, staring everyone in the face, broad-shouldered and steaming. The truth is, it’s so fucking tired, the whole racket, so when it is there, truly there, unornamented and brave, it’s...
Between the thieves and bosses who’s hearts have hardened by the lives they attribute their wealth to; Live weary artists, some lost, some pardoned by the hands of the men they pay dues to. The Poets and Priests will fall to their knees for the idols and bishops elected. The Masses agree things aren’t as they seem, but refuse to be generally affected.
“The single great informing conflict of the American psyche is the conflict between the subjective centrality of our own lives versus our awareness of its objective insignificance.” - David Foster Wallace, Oblivion
“‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing attaches a form to a file. Ann Williams turns a page. Anand Singh turns two pages at once by mistake and turns one back which makes a slightly different sound. David Cusk turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Robert Atkins...
“One of the quirks of real human memory is that the most vivid, detailed, recall doesn’t usually concern the things that are most germane. The as it were a forest. It’s not just that real memory is fragmentary; I think it’s also that overall relevance and meaning are conceptual, while the experiential bits that get locked down and are easiest, years later, to retrieve tend...
I’ve written your soul in gold all over me.
I don’t like things that could also be hats, that can also sting you, forcing you to apply various ointments and tenderizers, forbidding you from comfortably sitting. For the record: I am here on out boycotting Jellyfish.
What it felt like was a sort of emergence, however briefly, from the fuzziness...– David Foster Wallace, The Pale King
We will sing them hymns, not because we have to, but because we should. Hymns vibrating, thoughts and muscles, like a prebuilt machine. Every tendon a prayer.
“But how could that be?” she asked with her hand wrapped in celophane. “No one asks about anything. Everyone just waits.” his speech less poignant. “Well I feel like if I said we could be the first to start we would never get around to doing it after all.” expecting applause. “Can’t measurements be the antidote to truth?”
Communication and transportation started as fighting siblings. Each vying for a mother’s love. The schism then, transportation stayed physical, tangible. Communication thrives elementally; fire, wind, water, air. Now bound forever, through a network of sewn wires, stiched and crosshitched. No more wrong than right, but reveling in its own manufactured confusion. Electricity like black...
People are strange, but more than that, they’re good. They’re good...– Eggers
I read somewhere that talking is so much easier than listening. I told everyone how smart this was.
All freedoms, including those manufactured or those not manufactured, those freedoms presently waiting to be picked, plucked, sniffed, and discarded or those freedoms born out of imagination, intangible, but comforting nontheless. The unfortunate truth is that you cannot have all of those, you have to be selective, to choose, to evaluate. There, oh there, lies the choices, the surprises, the...
“Chauvinism is the mother of reincarnation.” He said, idly picking at strawberries. “How can you even say something like that?” She thought, under due distress. “You know I would do anything to impress you.” They each left with a winning smile.
Flaws: 1. Thinking that I have none. 2. Telling people I do.
How comfy the moon on a cushion of cloud.
“Pride isn’t the enemy of truth” “Only if you are capable of handling it” she said, staring at the scuffs on her shoes. “I am more than able to control my projections”.
“No one uses words like jubilee and pseudohomonym.” “He’s just trying to relate to you”, she spoke endearingly. “Men like me cannot relate to each other. There are just too many of us.”
“We all knew the truth but we insisted on distorting things to make it seem like we were all, with each other, in such profound disagreement about everything-that first and foremost there are two sides to everything, when of course there were not; there was one side only, one side always: Just as the earth is round, the truth is round” -Eggers.
“Hunger is weak” he said. “Why would you say such a thing?” She responds, leaning into intimacy. “Machines crave only efficiency”
Light almost solar has been extracted from the refuse of fish; fire has been...– Charles Babbage
Three Moons and Three Stars watch the eight children of the heavens. Why now? How plenty is a binary existence? How structured is a chain linked latter? Eighteen listeners petition for understanding, they crave triumph without trial, ghosts without sight. And so: We let our fumbling bodies declare what our quivering feeble lips dare not admit, The shades on the windows only passively lit, by...