How difficult is it to not be a selfish person? To try to be true to your own needs, while allotting a certain amount of yourself for the needs of others? I worry about the world because it seems like, almost universally, it seems like selfish impulses are what drive people. But isn't it an integral aspect of the term "humanity" to shed some of that self-interest for the greater good? So, as a species, are we simply becoming inhumane? At what point does that create a callousness that leads to the negation of our existence?

Sick. Four days. Lungs ache. (cue Soul Coughing). Sudafed highs/lows. Hazy/sharp mind.

Never underestimate the lengths people will go to to prove that they are right. Always assume that those you trust have a hidden motive. Paranoia is a facet of sanity. Speak in tongues when the mood strikes you; formal language is not capable of rendering sense upon all the chaos in our minds. In a room of multi-coloured walls, what colour would you lean upon? Be consistent when it suits your purposes; throw people for a loop when you get too predictable. Wisdom is a matter of timing. Always test a psychic with a game of rock-paper-scissors. Don't be afraid to warn people that you're in a bad mood. Always find a way to brighten someone's day; you'll never have trouble sleeping again.

It's a gloomy day in the neghborhood, a gloomy day in the neighborhood...

It's time for some new Sesame Street spin-offs. They could go prime time with some of those characters. Base the action around Bert and Ernie's apartment. Tales every week about the wild misadventures amongst their friends. You could do an entire episode about Big Bird being hunted by a poacher for his feathers. Have a guest appearance by Buffy, versus The Count. Or the Swedish Chef's guest appearance on the Martha Stewart show. No real actors, though, all muppet characterizations of famous people. As fake as some people appear to be, you'd hardly notice the difference.

Every nation, religion, culture, and so on down the line, all work toward a legacy. We spend our existence in trying to leave something behind. Most sins are derived in some fashion from the need to leave a legacy; great deeds just the opposite.

I haven't heard the phrase "cult of personality" for a while, but it's just as true as it ever was. The world, the media, is obsessed with the minute details of people who don't really matter; meanwhile, the important things fall by the wayside. I should be proud of my country, my culture, but every day there are more reasons to be despondent and disappointed by the path we are on.

In the sizzle of the frying pan in the chill of the night in the streaky pale of floors that have been stripped of their wax in the waking life nightmare daydream awakened in the cloud obscured retina burning halographic sunlight in the timbre and tone and skin threads of a cat's meow in the geometric patterns of muted amber shellaced and seashell windows in the dusty wax vinyl grooved scratched slightly warped wobbly records in the highlights and lowlights and dark roots of her hair in the sea of green and blue and industrial tan of the rooms in the twilight masked by the haze of good wine and smoke here i am, world, take me somewhere nice...

The siren sings and you are entranced and bring her whatever she desires yet still she has no real use for you and time slides away and you do not age because the moment that passes does not really pass and the rejection that is constant maintains the illusion and the difference, in the end, between reality and the dream of the siren is the void that grows from never knowing what could have been.