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What a lovely thing utopia is when you were too young to remember the horror that came with it.
As relevant as could be nowadays.
It's fun to think of everyone tiptoeing past your office door, trying not to disturb the Great Bulgarian Genius, while you sit inside reading a kid’s book and popping out at lunchtime to get higher than a giraffe's vagina.
“Dr. Hare is an invaluable asset to this university, and to the research community in general. She's a gem,” he said. I told him you were also all right on the ukulele. I lied though. You’re crap.
I’m pretty certain love is an evolutionary trick to convince a species with exceptionally dumb infants to stay together long enough for those infants to grow up.
Autonomy is only true autonomy when you allow others to go in directions you don’t condone. All else is just ethical masturbation.”
No truly sentient creature is happy all the time.”
“Time is the medium by which matter will organise itself into a perfect state. More than that I cannot say until I have been completed.” “Completed?” “There is still much work to do. For now though please think of time as the ocean the boats of matter sail on.”
The weed kicked me again. Another notion turned up at the party: Is it possible to love someone for being less than the myth you expected? There are the early days aren't there, of courting and screwing, of kissing goodbye for ages and growing obsessed. You studiously watch this other human for hints of their deep-psychology. If they're nice to the waiter, maybe that means they're a nice person etc. But if you stick it out with someone long enough, if you make it through all that, if you live with them, if you watch them go through a bereavement or some horrible disease, then they'll give you
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