saltonsea

Peace is not possible in this world; where passion is everything we are.
And averring that peace is the fruit of suppressing passion, will only bring you mad terror. We must become lovers with passion, and all it's mistresses. We must never marry them; but we should make love and visit them often.


The most dangerous ingredient of being a writer - or sub-par note-taker in my case - who loves to explore the human interest, is keeping company with junkies and thieves. If you are not careful, their most interesting characteristics may rub off on you. The assassins of empathy are master seducers.


I've spent a lot of time at home lately, in deep conversation with various bordeaux. We often dance to Cohen, and sometimes do some work. I've only really gone out twice in the last week.
I had some peyote and wondered through the night market in chinatown. An activicty which i have often enjoyed, and was reminded of by a correspondent in ontario.
I also went to my super-secret hangout for a little dancing, and by chance hung out with K-OS. Who, as it turns out, is very much a drinker, and stealer of olives.

The less i do, the more my life feels like an Evelyn Waugh novel.