Every single thing we do in this life

is at someone's expense. Get over it. Every action, while not necessarily being selfishly motivated, comes at the expense of another. There are reasons, and there are results, and the results always involve someone suffering. Once again, suck it up.




I apologize often enough, sincerely enough, to the point that now I apologize with quite enough gusto to blow out a few candles. Birthday?

But I don't inhabit the past.


The past is a narrative that informs my actions, but does not explain them. I try to coexist with my passions, rather than steer them. I try to feel as much and as
potently as I can, and then I try and explain it to others. I don't want sympathy.





I do want to bang some chicks.

Grief isn't shameful. Anger isn't shameful. Jubilation and ennui are not shameful.


I find it the saddest thing, people who can cry, but cannot give any other voice to their emotions. People who say the same things and do the same things, over and over again, all the while prating about the last time. Tell me something wonderful. Tell me how it felt watching a spade bite into grass and loam. Tell me how it felt to scatter ashes. Tell me how it felt to breathe on his or her skin, and what shade of purple her camisole was, and what type of eyes you lose yourself in.




Tell me who you have buried, tell me who you have banged. Because in the end all we are is a loose collection of facts, centered around some animating principle that gives us narrative, life.

And don't you for a second ever thing you have done a goddamn thing on this planet that hasn't caused tears. Because every choice we make, in this life, is at the expense of another.