Every concert pianist knows that the surest way to ruin a performance is to be aware of what the fingers are doing. Every dancer and acrobat knows enough to let the mind go, let the body run itself. Every driver of a manual vehicle arrives at destinations with no recollection of the stops and turns and roads traveled in getting there. You are all sleepwalkers, whether climbing creative peaks or slogging through some mundane routine for the thousandth time. You are all sleepwalkers.

Radar is too long in the tooth for fine detail.

It’s not in the nature of the lamb to mourn the lion.

Stars, everywhere. So many stars that I could not for the life me understand how the sky could contain them all yet be so black.

Not even the most heavily-armed police state can exert brute force to all of its citizens all of the time. Meme management is so much subtler; the rose-tinted refraction of perceived reality, the contagious fear of threatening alternatives.

Brains are survival engines, not truth detectors.

What's the survival value of obsessing on a sunset?