thoughtz

Feel that I will never be a wine person but am cursed to lead a life struggling to emulate that of a wine person though in a parodic way. 

Not sure if drunk or just sleepy or at the dangerous intersection of inebriation and lethargy. 

Feel as though I will never be a successful driver because of my inability to overtake others: I mean this spatially and figuratively.

Said to a friend "I do not know what I want to do" then stopped myself halfway because this has been said a thousand times, in wakefulness and in sleep. Talked about Taiwan/sandflies instead.

Feel glad to have read this line: "thick encrustations of interpretation" and this will be my life motto if the world doesn't end in 2012.

Quite certain that a playlist to accompany showers of fire and brimstone would come in SUPER handy because we will all die anyway, and I want to die listening to okay-to-good music.

Opened the refrigerator and found 3/4 eaten bottle of pesto covered in mould. Placed it back feeling a specific emotion (sadness and ~5% anger). Made a mental note to stop buying butter.

Meditating on questions like: is it better for a person to be explicit about his internal life or only say elliptical things very occasionally?

If you make life out to be a metaphor for something else, you should probably eat a sock or something, I don't know.

Kind of feel that if you afford to hold a garage sale here, you're not really doing it for the money.

I think we can successfully delineate young adulthood into phases grounded by relevance of/ironic appreciation of Thought Catalog articles. 

I can't even get through a magazine without being distracted by something. I am referring to a magazine with pictures.

The Sims can't even hold my attention for 20 minutes. Ended up googling "rosebud symbolism" last time I tried, which was ?13 months ago.

Feel that, besides the unequal distribution of the world's wealth, the most pressing issue that has been inadequately addressed is the unequal distribution of DSLRs. Sick of looking at the same images. Feel that the planet's collective image repertoire is impoverished.

André Leon Tally: "It's a famine of beauty — a famine of beauty, honey!" Aspire to remember this forever.

Had a talk with supervisor about the existence of primitives who can't grasp the concept of death. I was like, this isn't interesting to me because it probably isn't accurate/doesn't seem to arrive from a very credible source.

A chapter in a book that raises thematic questions about the trajectory of facts while undermining its own claims to the existence of a universally felt "truthiness."

I can hear someone in the neighbourhood vomit/cry.