The One You Love And

For This Moment, Nothing Matters. Look Up Into The Stars And You're Gone.

We're Consumers. We Are By-products Of A Lifestyle Obsession. Murder, Crime, Poverty, These Things Don't Concern Me. What Concerns Me Are Celebrity Magazines, Television With 500 Channels, Some Guy's Name On My Underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra...

The Only Reason Why We Ask Other People How Their Weekend Was Is So We Can Tell Them About Our Own Weekend.

Men Are Destroyed For Being Rebellious, And Women Destroy Themselves By Failing To Be Rebellious. Unless You Can Make That Next Jump To Either Getting Along With People Or Resisting People, You Are Ultimately Destroying Yourself.

It's Creepy, But Here We Are, The Pilgrims, The Crackpots Of Our Time, Trying To Establish Our Own Alternate Reality. To Build A World Out Of Rocks And Chaos. What It's Going To Be, I Don't Know. Even After All That Rushing Around, Where We've Ended Up Is The Middle Of Nowhere In The Middle Of The Night. And Maybe Knowing Isn't The Point. Where We're Standing Right Now, In The Ruins In The Dark, What We Build Could Be Anything.