Random
Walking the dog, listening to Beck, weathering neural infarction after neural infarction, feeling the slime of rejected thoughts leaking out of my ears and down my neck.
And I’m thinking:
If you’re the only person standing in line, then you’re not standing in line, you’re standing in point.
Nobody worships entropy as a god, and they ought to; because entropy’s going to win, so you may want to get on its good side.
War is the new peace.
Songwriters have it easy. If they can’t figure out how to end a song, they just keep repeating the same chorus, over and over again, dropping slowly toward silence. That’s not an ending, it’s a petering out, and it’s cheating. Clay recently had some choice words for great authors who commit bad endings, but the fact is that endings are hard. If storywriters could cheat like songwriters, then they’d just repeat themselves out of the need for a real ending, the need for a real ending, the need for a real ending.
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