Idiotically, it occurred to me that my pink underwear didn’t match my purple bra, as if boys even notice such things.

We landed, in fact, parallel to a canal, like there were two runways: one for us and one for waterfowl.

Like many people, I feel like celebrating. Remember this feeling. It is human, and can help us understand when others express bloodlust.

The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you'll think "they'll remember me now," but (a) they don't remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion.

March 4th, the only day that is also a sentence

You could hear the wind in the leaves, and on that wind traveled the screams of the kids on the playground in the distance, the little kids figuring out how to be alive, how to navigate a world that was not built for them by navigating a playground that was. . . Who am I to say that these things might not be forever? Who is Pete Van Houten to assert as fact the conjecture that our labor is temporary? All I know of heaven and all I know of death is in this park: an elegant universe in ceaseless motion, teeming with ruined ruins and screaming children.

Go spit in the face of our inevitable obsolescence and finish your @#$&ng novel.