The fact remains that getting people right is not what living is all about anyway. It’s getting them wrong that is living, getting them wrong and wrong and wrong and then, on careful reconsideration, getting them wrong again. That’s how we know we’re alive: we’re wrong.
We find more joyous the colorful notion of countless possibilities, than a determined, black-and-white outcome.
– dust from demagnetized brain waves –
For if you figure a way to live
without serving a master…
…then let the rest us know,
For you’d be the first person
in the history of the world.
If it were possible to convey what one feels when night falls and the stars come out and one is alone in the vastness, and life’s truths (night truths) begin to march past one by one, somehow swooning or as if the person out in the open were swooning or as if a strange sickness were circulating in the blood unnoticed.