Scenery is here. Wish you were beautiful.

My bones are ringing the way sometimes people say their ears are ringing, I'm so tired.

Mary had a little lamb, its fleece electrostatic / And everywhere Mary went, the lights became erratic.

Am I a good person? Deep down, do I even really want to be a good person, or do I only want to seem like a good person so that people (including myself) will approve of me? Is there a difference? How do I ever actually know whether I'm bullshitting myself, morally speaking?

All I'm saying is that it's shortsighted to blame TV. It's simply another symptom. TV didn't invent our aesthetic childishness here any more than the Manhattan Project invented aggression.

The entire ball game, in terms of both the exam and life, was what you gave attention to vs. what you willed yourself to not.

I was never the sort of child who believed in "monsters under the bed" or vampires, or who needed a night-light in his bedroom; on the contrary, my father...once laughingly told my mother that he thought I might suffer from a type of benign psychosis called "antiparanoia," in which I seemed to believe that I was the object of an intricate universal conspiracy to make me so happy I could hardly stand it.