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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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The Demon Who Pulls Out
Max just went off to sign a lease and pick up the key for his new apartment up in the student ghetto. The Brain thinks he's making something of a mistake in taking this place on the fly, but when The Brain starts to think this, I just remind The Brain that he's no longer our motherfucking responsibility, then The Brain feels better. I should be packing now. (I've decided that I'm pulling out of this move with a single box of shit. And, of course, that doesn't include books, which are exempt from all consideration. I have put aside a few books that will be sold or donated, but for the most part, my books tend to constitute the better part of my soul. For better or worse.) But of course I'm not packing. I just so don't care about Max's move, poor thing. I just don't. When I left, I said goodbye to almost everything in this house and I just don't give a fuck anymore about 99.9% of it. Mostly what I'm taking are journals and photographs. And if I had time, I'd sort through those and get rid of most of it. What shit we collect over time. And why?
More lies:
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