celestekintsugi

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And this, too.

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No, it's not. Your life is not a movie. You're not a main character. You're not in a game or a simulation. You're on this planet with so many other people your brain can't compute it, living in a time when the computer you use dictates how you behave and what you eat, and tells you who to trust and who not to trust, and robots taught by people who've never lived half as rich a life as you have, are increasingly dictating your every move. Things don't feel real for a reason...but you can't keep behaving as if you don't know. You're not in a bubble. Time is passing, and you will one day die. Wake the fuck up.

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"IT WAS A LOVE FEST" he says, and everyone screams. Guys, remember: he's a narcissist. He does not, cannot, and will not hear you. It was a love fest because everyone was agreeing with him. It was a lovefest between all them agreeing with each other. What we see as a violent riot, they see as a festival of proving their point. What we see as a racist rally, they see as a sermon. That's what people who follow narcs see. And narcs see nothing but heart. Welcome to it, kids. It's that simple, above all its complexity. No amount of ghosts of Christmas Past are gonna change him overnight.

Photo illustration: Sarah Grillo. Photo: Kevin Dietsch/Getty Image

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from "Number 12 Looks Just Like You" - The Twilight Zone, 1964.

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What do you know that I don't know? What do we have in common? The wonderful "Still/Here" by Bill T. Jones is back in New York City this week.

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PLEASE READ UNTIL THE END

This is the world we live in. This is the request.

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The dancefloor. It's the last remaining place where people will ever be happy together at the same time, and for a few beats, not care about anything except that we're in the same room. It's never about youth, middle age, or old age. It's about having a moment when you feel like you've triumphed over Time. The dancefloor is the last remaining place where love wins.

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Today's wisdom, from the panda.

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I believe in you!

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Dear Universe,

WE NEED A NEW WORD TO REPLACE UNPRECEDENTED.

I'm about to fucking throw up if I hear it one more time.

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I'm ready to go.

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Daniel Ash

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The rebel and the diamond, the hurt and will always be hurt.

The Breakfast Club (1985) Universal Pictures.

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Lyrics:

Wa-ching That's the sound of the sword going in Clack-clack, clack-a-clang clang That's the sound of the gun going bang-bang Tukka-tuk, tuk, tuk, tuk-tukka That's the sound of the drone button pusher

Shh, shh, shh That's the sound of the children taker

Ah (ah) Ah (ah) Ah (ah) Ah (ah)

This means war Anti-war

War

This means war Anti-war Anti-war

Send Sally to the sandbox, baby Send Johnny in to open fire Send Sally to the sandbox, baby We're dying for the stone-faced lies

Send Johnny to the sandbox, baby Send Sally into open fire Send Johnny to the sandbox, baby We're dying for the stone-faced lies

We're all going straight to hell

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What a world.