i've been fascinated by the process of free will. our brain thinks and decides to do things before we are aware that we have decided to do them. this is all real, concrete and repeatable stuff. it implies a lot not just about human behavior but about consciousness, free will, yadda yadda yadda ( Read more... )

i've been writing. i have a book i'm editing and some other shit i'm working on/have done. i've got old and new vignettes between all that though and it's here, if anyone gives a fuck ( Read more... )

i get strong urges to abandon everything i've worked at or am working for and move to the desert. i can spend all night in drink and drugs, write, read, watch tv. not give a shit about the world or anything but my own bullshit hedonistic agenda. i do all those things now but very rarely (except for the reading and writing) but i sometimes feel the ( Read more... )

cult of personalities are something i would claw my own face off to avoid. people, in some instances, mistake it for tribalism, i think. and it betrays a lacking of self-awareness ( Read more... )

hmmm

"Why didn't"'s and "Could have"'s. Too much noise, it makes me want to crash this fucking ride but I keep pulling up at the last moment.

Each week I sit on the couch and she tells me it takes strength to keep it going but it seems weak to hold on to my sickly precious pieces. Why am I so weak? Just let it go, you fucking coward.

revolutions; planets pulled through a vast darkness, and by what? gravity, it keeps us in motion, a strange motion that propels us and holds us in place.

i am still and yet i move. take me to the other side when i can no longer stand to face the sun.

Beer bottles abruptly clatter, rolling onto the edge of the table, dripping their insides out slowly, mimicking the drunks who discarded them as if the bottles found some solace in acting out metaphor ( Read more... )

"Are you okay?!" She's screaming in her sleep again - repeating some sad chorus over and over; the crickets move quickly in the heat, their singing pulling the frogs from the mud ( Read more... )

Sometimes it's buried. Other times it's unearthed -- exhumed in the night: you left, slipped away, to a brighter world, happier than I could ever know. A word said, a promise broken and then fade, it slurred out into the darkness like a decrescendo ( Read more... )