I Love You


Thanks for continuing to come back.

I don't have much to say again.

But you knew this already.

I was reading my archives and I realized (again!) that I have been concerned with the same things for a very long time now.

I want out, but I can't get there. Maybe I won't. I like me, but I get scared of continuing to be me sometimes. I blame Tolstoy. Levin after Kitty's hand is still Levin. I didn't want to know that. Belief, remember?

I have been sick lately, and when I am sick, I relieve myself of all pressures to do or be (of course, those pressures are the real sickness for me).

I decided I was going to watch the TV series 24 all over again from the beginning. Just because.


Regardless of the possibility of contaminating my soul with right-wing propaganda, I like almost anything with spy/noir aspects.

I made it through season one. And then, halfway through season two, well, this is pathetic that I am recounting this. There's this scene. An agent of some unnamed country located in the Middle East is in the process of helping the protagonist prevent war. And a bunch of rednecks come and beat him up. And, before the crackers come, I have to turn it off. Because, embarrassingly, I know I will be moved.

Fuck, I still care.

I reset my browser. I won't try to watch TV again for another month. Hopefully I will get some reading done.

But I digress.

Thank You.

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