A Demon not afraid of happiness.

Learning to jump off cliffs and build my wings on the way down. If destruction is itself an act of creation, then self-destruction is…

The medium is the message. The medium is the massage. I am what I write. Chicken. Egg. Chicken. Egg. Amoeba. Take the mantle of societal oppression from our predecessors or burn it? You don’t realize what starting over really entails.

They are feeding us lies, and we greedily drink the liquors that make such fabrications palatable, desirable, necessary.

I am taking a chance on thinking for myself, and being my own person. Ironically this doesn’t win friends or influence people, and there are no clear indicators of success. I could be (should be) misguided. Postmodernity is annoying, but so seductive. I could dig a new romanticism; it would put me in touch with my stifled inner child, which is just a layer beneath my not-so-inner adolescent.

Norfolk is a ghost town. Everyone goes to Washington.

Self-conscious.

Back when I was religious I was reading those Left Behind novels, and I remember the author making a big deal of the antichrist never using contractions. Those books were random. I feel like I could be open to a modicum of spirituality, but more in the Buddhist sense of seeking discipline and wisdom, not in the mystic sense that there are beings outside of experience that are making life more or less difficult for me. Desire rooted in ignorance causes suffering. Television causes suffering.

There is so much knowledge in the world, it’s hard to keep up with it all. I feel like I could be (should be) a lot better read. Repetition is the refuge of lesser minds.