Someday you will die, and until you know that, you're useless to me.

The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. You can change the way people live their lives. That's the only lasting thing you can create.

Burn the Louvre, and wipe your ass with the Mona Lisa. This way at least, God would know our names.

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel peaceful. Not happy. Not sad. Not anxious. Not horny. Just all the higher parts of my brain closing up shop. The cerebral cortex. The cerebellum. That's where my problem is. I'm now simplifying myself. Somewhere balanced in the perfect middle between happiness and sadness. Because sponges never have a bad day.

More and more, it feels like I'm doing a really bad impersonation of myself.

For the record, knowing when people are only pretending to like you isn't such a great skill to have.

I don't remember the hotel rooms or the airports but I always remember the events.