I looked anxiously around me: the present, nothing but the present. Furniture light and solid, rooted in its present, a table, a bed, a closet with a mirror— and me. The true nature of the present revealed itself: it was what exists, and all that was not present did not exist. The past did not exist. Not at all. Not in things, not even thoughts. It is true that I had realized a long time ago that mine had escaped me. But until then I believed it had simply gone out of my range. For me the past was only a pensioning off: it was another way of existing, a state of vacation and inaction; each event, when it had played its part, put itself politely into a box and became an honorary event: we have so much difficulty imagining nothingness. Now I knew: things are entirely what they appear to be— and behind them . . . there is nothing.

here you go

would sooner drink a liter of rat poison than step foot in san francisco ever again

Has the dream ended? Did poverty fuck Ryan into oblivion???

“every night i tell myself
‘i am the cosmos, i am the wind’
but that don’t get you back again

just when i was starting to feel okay
you’re on the phone
i never wanna be alone

never wanna be alone
i hate to have to take you home
wanted too much to say no, no”

Yup

Real good

Thank god we die! Then our souls are free to do all the cool stuff our bodies can’t. Yeah????

Every day I stave off ruin and death. I maintain and patch up. The only thing more awareness and more knowledge does is embarrass and sadden me.

Yeah baby!!!!!!!!