Cocktails on the lawn, alone.

He had, without realizing it, absorbed the professional trick of imputing grave urgency to statements of no importance.

And at the end of all my searching, all my suffering, I came to understand: I loved the algorithm.

Richter in a documentary painting in a starched white shirt—is he just fucking with my OCD?

The world’s longest and saddest book: great shit nobody noticed.

At some point that year they renounced activities that assumed the existence of a viable future.

His had been a life of accomplishment to no one but him. For him it had been a miracle.

Canadian slasher movie with Leonard Cohen in a hockey mask.

Look at you, still believing in your shit.