i was thinking, am i going to be doing the same things every day for the rest of my life.

 dark energy isn't dark we, just don't understand it. we're in the dark.

 existential crisis.

if love was the only law we followed, we'd be alright.

in my dream i wandered into a video store with dogs and photographs and it was a community garden and dogs ran free and then all of a sudden everyone fled and i was confused and followed them but lost them.

something about a familial trait of self-abnegation or renunciation. my dad invented a novel. it didn't exist. my uncle burned a trunk of journals on a mountaintop. my brother quit acting. mys sister quit art-making, well, not entirely, and  so did i, well. 

there's a kind of kindling static in repetition that tingles and comforts me and would that it did you too.

they gave me the feeling it's all lies and self-invention and the further feeling that i had no self to invent.

when i die i overhear someone say, he was just a poor guy who longed for beauty, and i get embarrassed.