01
There's a big tattoo splashing all over my social body, a portrait of rejection, zen detachment, nigh-infinite optimism, the law of averages, and cutting your losses.
02
A thought is pulling me along, moving my blood, taking chemical and circulatory control over my body.
03
The third digital space remains a drama mask that will not resolve itself into one emotion, instead it spins and spins.
04
If life is not throwing up a flurry of rejections and rubbing them all over your nose hairs, then there's a good chance that you are not exhibiting a healthy amount of risk-taking.
05
The nothing space where no one lives, only cars live here, all violations will be subject to stop and frisk.
06
What is mine vs. my narration of the lives of others?
07
A lawn decoration, whether wood or plastic, colorful or a well of neutrality, it tells you where you are.
A working file, not a finished essay. These fragments don't try to agree with each other and aren't in any particular order. If they end up an essay, or part of one, the shape will come later — from arrangement, not addition.