Z.

Think of the afterlife of a leaf. You grow up, living your entire life stuck to one little tree branch with all your brothers and sisters. You have a beautiful view of the world around you, but can never touch it. Slowly, over the course of a season, you blossom, wither and die. In death, you fall from the tree that you've lived upon your entire life. Dead, but, for the first time, free. The wind guides your descent like you never experienced in life, before. Blows you away. Through the air. Over the ground. Down hills to who knows where. You collect amid other leaves you've never met, huddled together in ditches or curbs or hollows. A mouse gathers you up and carries you off to a hole in the ground. You're tucked away, inside, all winter. Your crackling, brittle lamina insulating the mother mouse's babies to keep them warm as they grow. Slowly, in that dark warm space, you crumble and dissolve into the soil. Piece by piece, until you are unrecognizable from the dirt an...

They don't show animals getting theirs in nature documentaries anymore. Anymore, the courting male is rejected. The hunting predator is evaded. Scene after scene of animals denied and deprived. I understand that in life, an individual experiences an outsized portion of failure compared to success. But let's not forget that life exists because of the success stories. Dwelling on failed hunting and reproduction efforts in these nature shows feels existentially perverse. Sometimes the most exciting and memorable things you can do in life is nothing. Think of all the opportunities you took. The ones that worked out for you, you don't even think about, because those are behind you now. Think about the ones you took that failed. You don't think of those because you've worked hard to move past your mistakes. The ones you think about are the opportunities you had but didn't take. Those are the ones that are actually useful to you, nowadays, because you can really think ...

"Hey, you feeling good?" "Yes, I am!" "Great. Because other people are suffering and dying while you're here feeling good." "Oh." "Yeah, 'Oh.' Don't feel so good now, do you?" "No, I don't." "Wanna help those people?" "Yes, but how?" "Destroy the entire system that makes you feel good." "Really?" "Yes." "How will that help them?" "First of all, how dare you ask questions. That's privilege. Second, dismantling the system will help them because the system that benefits you is also the same system that makes them feel bad." "Really?" "Yes, really. Frankly, I find it annoying you keep asking for clarification after everything I tell you. You really should just believe me-- it'll make this all much simpler for both of us." "But, how would destroying what makes me feel good help them?" "Okay, let me br...

Bathroom stalls. The men's bathroom, for the uninitiated, is a place in our culture where the essence of the masculine is simply and efficiently distilled down to its core characteristics. I've stood outside the women's bathroom, waiting for women I've known. In past lives, I've even been employed to clean and maintain restroom facilities, affording me a behind-the-curtain look at the defining features of both restrooms. Even when unoccupied, the women's bathroom, comparatively, is a warm and affectionate place. I've observed, with curiosity, that it isn't altogether uncommon to see two women enter as strangers but come out chatting like birds descending from a telephone wire. You can make friends in the women's restroom. There's understanding, there-- a mutual interest. It's a place where society has told women where they can go and feel safe long enough to relieve themselves, and that's a comfort in times such as these. The men's re...

This cat has been coming here for years now and I'm starting to realize, I don't think he has any money.

"Flies don't bother explaining to bees why shit tastes better than honey." "Do not proffer sympathy to the mentally ill; it is a bottomless pit. Tell them firmly, 'I am not paid to listen to this drivel - you are a terminal fool!' Otherwise, they make you as crazy as they are." —William S. Burroughs By the way, the other day I was out walking in the early morning. It was so quiet and serene--when I looked up and chanced to see a large mule deer roaming the property of a house to my right. He was a magnificent specimen--a tall, healthy buck with an impressive array of antlers upon his wise brow like a crown. No meek and timid deer, he--this buck was proud and fearless, paying me no heed as he sauntered confidently through the front yard, stopping when a fence between the properties barred his path. I watched in eager, resplendent wonder at the glory of nature as the buck stood upon its hindquarters and prepared a graceful leap over the obstruction; a tug ...

A.I. helped me make my ideal motivational poster. I think I'm going to lower the resolution and print a 200 px wide version of it to hang up.

Whether or not you've personally had the misfortune of being represented by a court-ordered public defender in a criminal proceeding, many Americans are familiar with the concept. In the United States-- if an accused defendant is incapable of procuring legal counsel by his or her means, the court of law will appoint a public defender to that defendant to help ensure a fair trial. I'm no lawyer or legal historian-- but I believe the concept was borne out of English Common Law. The concepts of the rule of law, and justice, are integral to the American spirit-- and despite whatever criticisms you or others may levy against the judicial system of our United States, the concept of civic defenders, while not perfect, can certainly be regarded in the abstract as better than the alternative: self-defense in legal proceedings regardless of one's knowledge or skill in matters of the law, or no practiced representation or legal counsel all. The concept of a government-appointed counci...

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