crazy serious. always thwart the obvious and downplay the practical. because escapism is the artists’ last refuge. then i’ll wave my rainbow flag to no one and shout sentimental idiocies at the wide-mouthed sea. i’ll set sail for athens in all neo-classic splendor of one who cannot bear the modern standard of a life too fearful for its idiopathic disease

there is no atlantis. and there is no disease. this is only the exponential reality that has always been.
i want to be the allele with the mostest.
i think i’ve made myself a fine bland parka to hide in.
the passerby, passenger in limbo, ignoramus.
most of the observations in this generalized book of self-centered idioms and romanticisms can stick it where the rainbow men go.
if my thoughts were more pretentious i’d shit out descartes and nietzsche, too.