I Voluntarily Inflicted A Certain Level Of

I Had A Viking Sense Of Entitlement To Whatever Provisions I Could Plunder.

He Wanted This Someone To See How Much He Hurt.

The Problem With Making A Virtual World Of Oneself Is Akin To The Problem With Projecting Ourselves Onto A Cyberworld: There’s No End Of Virtual Spaces In Which To Seek Stimulation, But Their Very Endlessness, The Perpetual Stimulation Without Satisfaction, Becomes Imprisoning.

There's A Hazardous Sadness To The First Sounds Of Someone Else's Work In The Morning; It's As If Stillness Experiences Pain In Being Broken.

Fiction Is A Solution, The Best Solution, To The Problem Of Existential Solitude.