Death is a growth industry.

He didn’t do any of the actual work—there were assistants for that. His role was to think. On occasion he might reveal to his assistants what he was thinking, and his ideas might or might not be incorporated. He left that up to them. He had only a vague awareness of the processes and techniques involved in creating the work. Assistants were underpaid, and left frequently, thus ensuring the steady pace of artistic evolution that had made him famous.

We miss you terribly, without the comfort of knowing our love and respect was reciprocated.

If you were any good at this, someone would have noticed by now.

All night I thought I heard her calling out. Of course, that was impossible. Her voice by now was down to palest air. But I still hear it everywhere.

If we admitted how terrifying life is,
would we need more drugs, or less?

While most of the time you cling to life with fierce gratitude, more often than you’d like to admit you just want to give up and drink yourself to death.

The illusion of control is the source of untold human misery.

Like many films of the period, it featured a sociopathic hero, a saintly villain and the default bloody Jackson Pollock ending.

What were thought to be diseases turned out to be the body’s unsuccessful attempts at healing.

Figuratively speaking, he hit the windshield.
Figuratively speaking, it took weeks to clean him off.

He is survived by his Instagram feed and beloved Spotify playlist.

Beneath the excitement of travel was a core of sadness, knowing this would become the memory of a place he’d seen for the last time.

Layers to cover your ruined body, dark glasses for your ruined eyes.

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

Night lifts over another sleepless dawn; a cacophony of birds in their vast canopy. Wordless. Hallelujah.

Things to avoid: mirrors, clocks.