I believe the universe wants to be noticed. I think the universe is inprobably biased toward the consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed. And who am I, living in the middle of history, to tell the universe that it-or my observation of it-is temporary?
Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.
I drink to make the thoughts go a way and then after few I think “why what’s the point, the thoughts never goes away”