Hey...Dr. Jay...where you got those moves?
Was it gettin high in the school? Can it be the shoes?

It's the politics of the sneaker pimps

Some days your mind clears and things feel good. What is this crazy-ass thing called motivation? It's a shame that there aren't deeper questions on my mind.

McCarthy (Cormac, not Eugene) talks about the slaughter of thousands for a flowerblossom. White Tiger writerman says people are slaves when they can't see life's beauty.
I say, what beauty?
Life is life: powerful and often less than expected. Some days I like to pretend that a moral code keeps my profession geared to good and my MN geared to nice. The truth is, for this--all this--I was programmed. Nothing more, nothingless, nothing less.

Sometimes I'm proud. Programmed.

There are those fleeting instances when the lights shine down, the air is clear, and the night is new. Sirens; muffled discontent: nothing is certian. People we care about die, approach death. We approach it too, insodoing approach life.

Politics.

I don't get addicted to much, but one of these days I gotta get hooked on living. Or at least something that isn't the internet.