The integrity of my sleep has been forever compromised, sir.

But if I decide to decide there’s a different, less selfish, less lonely point to my life, won’t the reason for this decision be my desire to be less lonely, meaning to suffer less overall pain? Can the decision to be less selfish ever be anything other than a selfish decision?

The assumption that you everyone else is like you. That you are the world. The disease of consumer capitalism. The complacent solipsism.

It seems important to find ways of reminding ourselves that most "familiarity" is meditated and delusive.

I had, by thirteen, developed a sort of Taoist hubris about my ability to control via non-control.

I have now seen sucrose beaches and water a very bright blue. I have seen an all-red leisure suit with flared lapels. I have smelled suntan lotion spread over 2,100 pounds of hot flesh. I have been addressed as "Mon" in three different nations. I have seen 500 upscale Americans dance the Electric Slide. I have seen sunsets that looked computer-enhanced. I have (very briefly) joined a conga line.

I believe I want adult sanity, which seems to me the only unalloyed form of heroism available today.