I think I was crippled by all the good things: be yourself, tell the truth, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, do what you love, and money can’t buy happiness.
in the online world, self is identity; in the real world, identity is self; and we get confused, I think
i hate plots; plots are silly; plots have nothing to do with life, life has no plot; life is just a series of sounds and sensations that, sometimes, to simpler minds, create the illusion of a line.
we have a culture that celebrates the average person, when once we were ruled by heroes and gods; we should have expected regression.
death is the great mercy of an unforgiving universe
i think we’re overlooking something in the shift from manual to intellectual labor: in manual labor, you can use the mind to escape from the tedium, but in intellectual labor, the mind is already occupied with it’s own, more sinister brand of tedium, and so, more external pleasures and free time are needed.
it’s incredible, how little and how much a person needs to make themselves whole: a little love, and a little honesty.