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Here is a truly ancient person feeling heartbroken and rejected and it’s no different from the heartbreak someone would feel who was born twenty years ago; and, Oh, baby, you done fucked up bad; and, Oh, honey, at least you know it and you’re going to be a better person from now on; and, Oh, shit, if I say the wrong thing right now, she will kill my ass.
Why should I help you instead of helping my own people?” “Because there’s a narcissist with a bunch of cronies who wants to burn down the whole world—your piece of it included—for no other reason than to stoke his own ego and profit besides.” “So, kinda like an American president, then.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say the landscape was trying to have some soft hot sex with me eyes, it’s that seductive.
because attempting to judge systems of judgment is how one winds up with a head full of batshit. Pick a system—any system, legal or ecclesiastical—and you’ll start to wonder at how anyone could think it was fair. And then you’ll realize it was never meant to be fair but rather was intended to protect the interests of the powerful, and then you’re wading through a swamp of cynicism and your day’s ruined.
Who said that in my head? Or did I eat some leaves with a trippy fungus on them again?>
I have to stop to take it all in, because it’s as intense and alarming as a chopped ghost-pepper poultice applied directly to the genitals—with forethought, and malice.
Oaken, something smells really bad. Like even worse than jaguar poots,> Slomo says, <and in case you didn’t know, there is no poot in the world worse than a jaguar poot.> I file that information away to share later with Granuaile.
don’t know how to describe it in modern terms, but basically, if I were a wee lass, I would look at Malina and want to grow up to be her someday, and even as a grown man I’m more than a bit sad that I will never, ever look as good as she does destroying evil.
The last demon looks like an angry avocado that’s sworn to get revenge for all the world’s guacamole,
“We did see something in the divination that hinted at unexpected aid. I think a pumped-up murder sloth qualifies as unexpected.”
The Monkey King is glorious and impressive, to be sure, but as Erlang Shen descends from the heavens, I think he could practically slay people with how badass he looks, a mixture of flowing red and white silks and hardened-leather armor inlaid with gold and accents of jade.
We seldom recognize where the chapters of our lives begin and end until we are gifted the benediction of hindsight. Our loves, our triumphs, our tragedies—they do not exist unless we endure long enough to label them so. I am not sure if I have accomplished much else, but I have at least survived long enough to exult and mourn, to cherish my victories and regret my mistakes. Both are legion.
We should seek out the new and strange and applaud it and throw wild fecking parties whenever it walks into our lives. We should be building roads in and out of our own wee heads rather than erecting walls around them.
