This is your life, good to the last drop, doesn’t get any better than this. This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time. This isn’t a seminar and this isn’t a weekend retreat. Where you are now, you can’t even imagine what the bottom will be like.
Only after disaster can we be resurrected.
It’s only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything.
Nothing is static, everything is appalling (evolving), everything is falling apart.
You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else we are all a part of the same compost heap we are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
You are not your bank account.
You are not the clothes you wear.
You are not the contents of your wallet.
You are not your bowel cancer.
You are not your grande latte.
You are not the car you drive.
You are not your fucking khakis.
You have to give up.
You have to realise that someday you will die until you know that you are useless.
I say let me never be complete.
I say may i never be content.
I say deliver me from swedish furniture.
I say deliver me from clever art.
I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth.
I say you have to give up.
I say evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.
I want you to hit me as hard as you can.
Welcome to fight club!
If this is your first night, you have to fight!
