I was trying to go fast and flickered in and wondered how you could see me. Get in. Get out. Walk into the room, burn, and hear the approval. Turns out there will be no comfort. And I have been cursed, like most, with a long and lonely life. You don’t get to ask any more about the prices I’ve paid. I will tell you that now, I’m broke. Forgive my sins or don’t. Either way, it doesn’t really matter.


Never tell a writer anything you want kept secret. Don’t do things you’d hide in front of him. He will tell the world. He will nod his head while saying, “No, of course not.” He will change your name from Jessica to Linda, but the story will kill you softly when you see that names are just another construct. That is on purpose.


Perhaps I was drawn in by you drawling about your irrepressible hedonistic nature. Supposedly nothing? You clearly melted my mind at times.

I don’t belong where I was. This is the way of the world. That’s where I met you, though. So now we have to pound through this. I’m not even going to stick my toe in the pond of yesterday to consider anything about retroactive motion. I want you to come, but most likely you’ll stay. And that is where you belong. This no longer troubles me.


This is going to be a lesson about perception. If you called a little girl a ladybug everyone would think it was cute. If you called her a mealworm, you’d be a dick. But in real life, mealworms are way nicer. They name little-girl soccer teams The Little Ladybugs, but what they don’t tell you is that a ladybug is a soulless, relentless, remorseless killer. It is a carnivore that brings logarithmically more death than the Terminator. Those black spots are to let predators know that “I am poisonous so don’t fuck with me.” Too small an amount to affect people, but if you’re a slightly larger insect or smaller, that’s a biohazard sign. The cute shell is an offensive exoskeleton that shields it so like a Panzer it can wipe out legions of other animals blocking it from food. And since it is poisonous and cannibalistic, it knows to eat its young as eggs just after they come into existence, after it first exists. It’s pretty, though. And just like pretty people, it can talk a lot of shit.


While you’re living your life it seems likes chaos and things are just being thrown at you like a spaceship in the asteroid belt. You know where you are. You know what you’re trying to do. But everything just keeps coming at you in a random fashion. In hindsight, you can connect the dots of choices you made in that field. Some crashed you into rocks. Some were brilliant real-time choices that no one else could have pulled off. And there were mistakes everyone would have made, and ones only you did. If you keep repeating those, you’ll never get out. And if you’re smart and lucky you do. Either way, each choice is connected. And the asteroid belt isn’t random, it just appears to be. It exists under the same physical principles that you do. Those laws are immutable (until you get really small, but we’ll save quantum theory for another metaphor). They don’t change, you do. One way or the other you do.