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‘Remain true to the One and all manner of tasks will be completed. Be without emotion and the very ghosts and spirits will submit.’

‘Half-brother in blood, full brother in heart will I be. Thou shalt lead and I will follow. May no new grief divide us.’

I've resigned myself to one chapter a day. There are only so many names and locations I can read before I become completely overwhelmed by Tolkien's mythology.

Caveet emperor, as he always said. Let the goddam emperor caveet or not as it suited him.

"Luker, next time you want a vacation why don’t we just kayak to Iceland?—it’d be a hell of a lot safer!”

Poppiiiiiieeessss....

We thank you very sweetly for doing it so neatly! You've killed her so completely, that we thank you very sweetly.

We thank you very sweetly for doing it so neatly! You've killed her so completely, that we thank you very sweetly.

SPHINCTER (sfĭngk tər) n. 1. The Portal of Human Wisdom. 2. The door which unleashes the best Humanity has to offer.

O my Mother she’s in Mexico My Father he’s in France My candle’s in my handle And my dandle’s in my pants. I’ll eat my slop and smack my lips And feed the festooning farce, And soon I’ll croon a luscious tune And I’ll croon it with me arse. O some say there’s gods atop of the world And demons down below, But that whores in France don’t wear no pants Is all humans need to know.

Truth-seeking pundits may say That math is the only way But the gauche and monotonous Truth it has gotten us Is merely that A = A

Movies—the truly great ones (and sometimes the truly bad)—should be a drop in the overall fuel formula for your life. A fuel that should include sex and love and food and movement and friendships and your own work. All of it, feeding the engine. But the engine of your life should be your life.

Black tee. An image on the front—grainy, me on the toilet, clutching the toilet paper wad. Scowling at the lens. And around the image, in a circle, was: “Tool Fucked the Shit out of Me at the Palladium and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt.” Lmao oh man this book just gets better and better.

Unlike the movies, where Our Hero suddenly has some massive revelation and becomes a New Person instantly, the true road out of a rut consists of a bunch of small, sharp kicks.

Van Gogh did have true, crackling genius inside of him. But it didn’t save him, and despite what I always believed about how absolute geniuses must view the world and move through it, unencumbered by sentiment or responsibility, van Gogh didn’t look to his genius to save him. He wanted to live in—and be saved by—the world.

Does anyone act more like an overserious senior citizen with time running out on their chance for immortality than someone in their twenties?

Show your kids Irreversible, Salo or The Last Temptation of Christ before you show them any silent film. Even the benign ones are unintended windows into stuttery, subconscious terror rhythms.

ELECTION (ĭ lĕk shən) n. 1. Ritual in which the human populace votes for one party disguised behind two names. 2. The opportunity to vote for a human freely chosen by a corporate interest. Yep.

COMMENTARY BY LILITH Earrings, which hang from the flaps on the head, facilitate the boring of holes in the head by the human female in order to demonstrate to males the zeal and alacrity with which she desires her body to be penetrated.

If humans are but dim transparencies dreaming of gods with the brains of gods for a bed, then dreams into dreams converge in formless vagaries. For who is then dreaming who, gods or men, or is there yet another dreamer dreaming them?