That old saying,how you always hurt the one you love? Well,it works both ways.
Echo:I could’t sleep. I could’t sleep. Everyting’s far way. With insomnia, nothing’s real. Everyting’s a copy of a copy of a copy.
Lost in oblivion,dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.
Every evening, I died and every evening, I was born again. Resurrected.
When you have insomnia, you’re never really asleep and you’re never really awake.
If I did have a tumor…I’d name it Marla. Marla…the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it, but you can’t.
This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.
If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?
Why do guys like you and I know what a duvet is? Is this essential to our survival in the hunter-gatherer sense of the world? No. What are we, then? We’re consumers. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty…these things don’t concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy’s name on my underwear. Rogaine, viagra, olestra.
Fuck Martha Stewart. Martha’s polishing the brass on the Titanic. It’s all going down, man. So fuck off with your sofa units and strinne green stripe patterns. I say, never be complete. I say, stop being perfect. I say, let’s evolve. Let the chips fall where they may.
The things you own end up owning you.
It was right in everyone’s face. Tyler and I just made it visible. It was on the tip of everyone’s tongue. Tyler and I just gave it a name.
Self-improvement is masturbation. And self-destruction.
Sticking feathers up your butt does make you a chicken.
Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing.
First you have to give up. First you have to know, not fear, know that someday you’re gonna die. It’s only after we’ve lost everyting that we’re free to do anyting.
Advertising has its taste in cars and clothes. Working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history. No purpose or place. We have no great war, no great depression. Our great war’s a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars. But we won’t. We’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.
No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide.
You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your fucking khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. We are all part of the same compost heap.
You need to forget about what you know. That’s your problem. Forget about what you think you know about life, about friendship, and especially about you and me.
You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else...
Hitting bottom isn’t a weekend retreat. It’s not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go.
You met me at a very strange time in my life.
Marla:A condom is the glass slipper for our generation ,you slip one on when you meet a stranger ,you dance all night ,and then you throw it away.
It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything... |