That was one thing you found out when you were stoned, or wasted, or feverish: that the world was always turning and that only a healthy mind could block out the sickening whirl of it.

Don't believe everything you hear today

I didn't know the inner me was hungry," I said to Art. "That's because it already starved to death.

And he paddled away in his douche canoe.

I will be waiting by candlelight in our tree house of the mind.

Was there any human urge more pitiful-or more intense- than wanting another chance at something?

Don't mourn, Organise