When are struck by our own thanklessness? Pretty much never. We’re unbelievers, enamored of debris and the need of an audience. Even self-loathing becomes a narcissistic spectacle.
Posts from the Chapter 52 Category
Choose another category?
- 8:40 AM
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
Day/Page/Sketch #444
We are selectively and blindly ungrateful. We unconsciously decide who to appreciate and who to disown, and that usually changes each day. We are superficial by nature, only concerned with events and not with their consequences. We are selfish by nature, only concerned with people in relation to us and not from their own point of view.
Day/Page/Sketch #443
We’re bad at remembering things, that’s why we write in the first place, and also that’s why we become artists, so we stop losing important information. I like to hold on to things I love after they’re gone.
Day/Page/Sketch #442
Precautions become the law of the matter against beautiful hindrances. Our vocabulary is so limited when we address them, we repeat the same words until they weaken and die. On top of it, we are afraid of writing ill-written letters to them.
Day/Page/Sketch #441
1 cup of secrets, 1/2 cup of anxiety, a tablespoon of disability. Stir and drink on an empty soul.
Day/Page/Sketch #440
Loosen the hold of your last anchor and go away. Leave the slaughterhouse of time behind and get lost in the dust bowl. Your life is a mirage.