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Perhaps the strangest thing about all this was how little I cared about who was responsible for the attack. I’m sure I will. I’m sure one day, when I learn who did this, I’ll lose sleep, and feel rage, real rage, and want to see them (or him, or her) killed. I’ll want blood. I’m no better than anyone else.

Creep out of our bedroom late at night to eat our leftovers, the food we swore we would save for lunch the next day, and consume them ravenously over the sink like a wild animal.

We can’t jump off bridges anymore because our iPhones will get ruined. We can’t take skinny dip in the ocean, because there’s no service on the beach and and adventures aren’t real unless they’re on Instagram.

You can’t make money without selling something real. You can’t make something real without first imagination manifesting itself in your head. You can’t have imagination without surrendering yourself to an idea that you want to create something of value to other human beings.

This isn’t to depress you or make you think about death and get sad and stuff, it’s just a reminder that we’ve hit the jackpot having the opportunity of life.

he is a ‘long struggling poet’ with ‘extreme reverance for art’ and is thus pretty socially isolated and critical towards me in sort of obvious ways

You still don’t understand how LMFAO or Skrillex qualify as music. It just sounds like dying.

8. You’re more comfortable at a Renaissance fair full of fake knights than a nightclub full of fake Renaissance men.

I’ve only been back at work for a few days, but already I’m noticing that the more wholesome activities are quickly dropping out of my life: walking, exercising, reading, meditating, and extra writing.

Words are thoughts, and thoughts shape emotions. If you tell yourself you’re a bald ugly loser with a speckled egglike head, you’ll be right. If you tell yourself you’re a shiny baldheaded badass with an aerodynamic dome, you’ll be right, too.