“To do a good self-portrait, one must look into the ashes. Man builds on the ruins of his former selves. When we are reduced to nothingness, we come alive again. To season one’s destiny with the dust of one’s folly, that is the trick. In the ashes lie the ingredients for portrayal of self.” – Henry Miller
I’ve overloaded the circuits is all. Too many devices flashing and beeping at once. Information everywhere and not a nugget of truth to be found. This body, this brain—a sensitive sponge sopping up whatever pool of vomit or horse piss it finds itself in. How much longer will I pretend this is all well and good? How much longer will I resist the urge to fling myself over the rail? How close to the jagged earth will I be when I finally spread my wings?