Ramble

"...And who are you?"


The idea that we're supposed to know who we are bothers me. Knowing oneself is literally impossible. We hide so much from ourselves consciously and unconsciously. If we were to fully understand ourselves, our faults and our impulses and the things we want, subconscious desires and appetites we can't admit to ourselves, we would all kill ourselves. No human can know themselves and survive.

Haiku

Petals diminish.
Stanzas burn then good girls run.
Midnight bites a ship.

Massage Book

Art is anything you can get away with

Older societies thrived on purely literary plots

The past went that-a-way

We see the present through a rear-view mirror

"...And who are you?"

Rant

Does it not disturb anyone besides me that the Stanford Prison Experiment study describes the behavior of the abused and humiliated prisoners as "emasculated" and "more like a woman than a man" because humiliated prisoners acting "like women"  also means that behavior typically assumed by females is similar to that of abused prisoners but we don't need feminism.

Random Sentences

Random

"Dunhills," she said. "I hope that's alright." To his parents and his sister in Munich, February 12, 1942. The Party intellectual knows in which direction his memories must be altered; he therefore knows that he is playing tricks with reality; but by the exercise of doublethink he also satisfies himself that reality is not violated. I'd far rather have talked to you. The short hair accentuated his features, specifically his too-close-together beady eyes, which did not stand up well to accentuation.

Book