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A world without bumper stickers and tattoos.

I don't like kites.

Clifton Fadiman is a fag.

I'd like to meet myself in a blackout.

"Originality is merely unconscious plagarism." -- from Lucid Dreaming, by Stephen LaBerge. (He is quoting something else, but he doesn't say where his quote comes from.)

"But study hard what interests you most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible." -- Richard P. Feynman

Leave us some crumbs.

Somebody has stolen my password and is logging into my account to change one letter in one word of my second-to-last blog entry. Every time I change it back, they change it back again. Stop it, goddamnit!

I continue to advocate non-violent sex.

Somewhere there are the keys to my car.

If you can avoid getting stuck in the elevator, do. (The stairwell sometimes smells like stale beer, but the elevator always smells like a caged fart.) I like neither the elevator nor the stairs, and would repel down the side of the building if I were competent enough to tie knots.

Today, while I was standing in the elevator, reading Letter to the Soviet Leaders, by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the elevator door suddenly opened to reveal the woman who lives on the fourth floor with the corrosive plastic face. "Are you going up?" she asked. I looked at the panel of buttons to the left of the door. All of the buttons were unlit. "Apparently not," I replied. "Although I could have sworn that I pressed the button." She got in the elevator. "Do you want to go up?" "Yes." "Which floor?" "Three, please." She was smiling at me, trying her best not to laugh at me. "You might have been here all afternoon if I hadn't come along." "Probably, yes."

"To live a life is not to cross a field."-- Boris Pasternak

"All the horror is in just this-- that there is no horror." -- Aleksandr Kuprin

"The worldly hope men set their hearts upon turns ashes-- or it prospers; and anon, like snow upon the desert's dusty face lighting a little hour or two-- is gone." -- from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.

"A man resolves in accordance with his desire, acts in accordance with his resolve, and turns out to be in accordance with his action . . . A man who's attached goes with his action, to that very place to which hs mind and character cling. Reaching the end of his action, of whatever he has done in this world-- from that world he returns back to this world, back to action . . . That is the course of a man who desires . . . When they are all banished, those desires lurking in one's heart; then a mortal becomes immortal." This is an excerpt from the Brhadaranyaka Upanishad.

"For those who would die, there is life." -- Far Journeys, Robert Monroe.

I hate people who hate people.