Sunday, November 29, 2009

Ryder looked over the roof of the Pontiac. "Bryce... what's the point?"

Grinning, seating himself, closing the door, strapping in, revving the engine, staring forward, grinning, grinning: "That is the question, isn't it? What is the point? What is the godfucking, axlebreaking point?"
There is no path to enlightenment. There is no enlightenment.
"You think that I am complex? You wonder what is the real me? I tell you again: there is no me. I do not exist. Identity is an illusion."

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

You could no more turn from my kiss than the earth could turn from the sun.

Which it does, in fact. Every day, in fact.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Fight for liberty? [Murder people for liberty?] “Liberty”? A political prevarication. Whatever the lofty lies that the individual who wars believes that he or she wars for [whatever he or she murders for], the true motivator, as ever, is thrill for thrill's sake, action for action's sake, blood for blood's sake.

Monday, November 9, 2009

When I think of things that "change the world," I think of technologies. When I think of things that perpetuate political and social systems against upheaval and revolution, I think of history textbooks.
Though I hold U.S. citizenship, I speak of U.S. history in the third person plural, not the first person plural, because I was born in 1977, and I had nothing to do with anything that came before. I also speak of current politics (in the U.S., as in any country) in the third person plural, because I am not one of the decision makers.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

"Bryce swept his eyes around through the restaurant and saw the diners chatting, grinning, squabbling, romancing and thought of the pointlessness, the utter, awful pointlessness. Did he think it? No, he felt the pointlessness. He tasted the pointlessness of chatting, grinning, squabbling, romancing, struggling, eating, living, existing, thinking, feeling, tasting."