Maybe that’s what humanity is, not the human species but humanity, culture, a sedimentation of little cults, each following one guy who’s worth it. All that energy, all that history, somebody was packing heat. That’s real religion: real dick.

His death opened a door that I no longer had the energy to walk through.

Then I am too cool, and they think I don’t like them.

What I’d need to put on isn’t skill but some kind of pride. But then I’d be gay.

she kept talking about “drama.” I think these people sort of live in hell, fighting over scraps, over nothing.

it seems like they could be printing new people in a lab every morning,

He seemed to be courting the most dangerous aspects of any place he passed through,

His death opened a door that I no longer had the energy to walk through.

The only thing I’m sure of is that it’s impossible to talk now, impossible to say what you mean, that’s the world the young are building. No hope of staying ahead of it, but I don’t want to be pigheaded either. What to do?