When agency people talk about Big Ideas, rest assured that none are coming.

The universe has been generous enough to offer you the opportunity to fail—utterly—yet again, and you have predictably accepted without a moment of hesitation or gratitude, or even being aware of it.

Maximum number of sounds heard simultaneously:

Once you’ve had a thought there’s no reason to ever have it again.

Leaving a loved place for what is probably the last time. A place that already exists primarily in memory. Could there be any more fraught and melancholy words than next year?

Walking past the house I hear Jerry yelling at Siri again. It’s that time of night.

The parallel life his father had always sensed, shimmering just out of reach, riding a limitless cusp of possibility that never materialized.

If you make the mistake of asking him something, his eyes glaze over and his mouth twitches into the private smile of a predator who’s just found his victim. Well, he says, that’s an interesting question. In the endless pause that follows, you think, oh shit, we’re in for it now.

Notes, 4 am
1) the past is a hallucination
2) worst possible combination: eternal life, no god

You fail to avoid an old coworker on street, and just shake your head in greeting. It’s been that kind of year.