it’s dark outside, but all this artificial light – pick a side, the real or the virtual, cruel darwin, culling the weak, or mad yeshua, shouting from a hill

there are those who, with all the wealth, would only do good; but they aren’t ruthless enough to get it: this is our failure

I look at my old writing and wonder how I could have been so brave, and such lovely pictures – how much is lost with time, how much is wasted away in understanding.

in the information age, is it too easy to confuse knowledge with intelligence?

do people mistrust spock for his sacrifice for the group? in the much-maligned needs of the many, which outweighs the needs of the one, the group protects the individual, and in times of sacrifice, the individual can only volunteer; and if no one volunteers, the group continues to protect the individual, and dies, down to the last of them; and to be clear: this isn’t a statement of politics, only a defense of star trek

and in a way, for humans, ideology is reality; better to fight, better to die, for things like love

and yet I have a theory, that all theory is a kind of madness, an imposition of human cognition, the casting of bones, the tea leaves, the waves and oceans of information reduced to insignificant gray matter, and art, at least, is honest, with wingtips soaked in nectar.

It’s better to have friends who disagree with you; what else are you supposed to talk about? it seems like we only smile and smile and keep our wooden bridges from burning.