Scrapple From My Apple.
"Four years," he said in the email, "happy anniversary."
Four is of mythology, nature. Time is elusive. Beginning again, how does one begin again, when it all feels so strangely comfortable - familiar - like [i agreed] something that we should be watching on IFC. Time, time, time. Washing over me. We all are done for.
The Alan Watts book talks about intelligence vs. instinct, such an interesting take on these human minds we carry around with us. Intelligence necessarily causes anxiety because of our need to collect facts and arrange them, building towards some cohesive idea of reality. Our desire to do this without input from other individuals. Anxiety. Anxiety. So many little islands. I will make further comment when I have my notes in front of me.
I remember talking to Hannah in the living room four winters ago. Four winters ago. Hannah, where are you today? Do you remember our conversation? The ephedrine in my brain makes me sentimental and slightly apocalyptic. We never change, do we?
Yes, yes. There is this bright and shining core that remains. The rest changes, falls away, dies. Dies.
Four is of mythology, nature. Time is elusive. Beginning again, how does one begin again, when it all feels so strangely comfortable - familiar - like [i agreed] something that we should be watching on IFC. Time, time, time. Washing over me. We all are done for.
The Alan Watts book talks about intelligence vs. instinct, such an interesting take on these human minds we carry around with us. Intelligence necessarily causes anxiety because of our need to collect facts and arrange them, building towards some cohesive idea of reality. Our desire to do this without input from other individuals. Anxiety. Anxiety. So many little islands. I will make further comment when I have my notes in front of me.
I remember talking to Hannah in the living room four winters ago. Four winters ago. Hannah, where are you today? Do you remember our conversation? The ephedrine in my brain makes me sentimental and slightly apocalyptic. We never change, do we?
Yes, yes. There is this bright and shining core that remains. The rest changes, falls away, dies. Dies.
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