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As I smoke a cigarette, looking down from my ledge, I see a man drive. Unable, entirely, to stay within the boundaries of the painted guide-lines. You have to wonder what was going on in his head. How does he see the world? What does his ghost sense?

Looking down on him in condescension, I simply do not care. For his world matters not. Though why not? Shouldn’t it?

He’s fucking up.

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joelle-van-dyne:

- David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest.

joelle-van-dyne:

- David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest.

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virgules:

Tim Burton: "He was so desperately in love with Winona, that when they broke up, he wouldn’t admit it was over for the longest time."

virgules:

Tim Burton: "He was so desperately in love with Winona, that when they broke up, he wouldn’t admit it was over for the longest time."

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>walked to dicks
>there was cops
>talked shit to drunk people that drove there
>they talked shit back
>they got arrested [unconfirmed, but assumed]
> success

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I can’t deal with with sitting still anymore. Have to always be doing something. The only way I can deal with reality now is by doing everything objectively. Otherwise everything shatters.

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I despise the kind of book that tells you … how to make yourself happy! The first duty of philosophy is making you understand what deep shit you are in.

Slavoj Žižek  (via mirroir) +
My vision is augmented.