The Future Is Just Wasted On Some

Somehow People Have Been Sold On The Idea That Only Professionals Can Entertain Them, That Only Professionals Can Sing Or Tell Jokes. And People Are Cut Out Of This Creativity Loop, And Creativity Is Being Limited To These Large, Centralized Voices.

We've Spent So Much Time Judging What Other People Created That We've Created Very, Very Little Of Our Own.

It's Only In Drugs Or Death We'll See Anything New, And Death Is Just Too Controlling.

Angel Says That Rich People Don't Like To Tolerate Much. Money Gives You Permission To Just Walk Away From Everything That Isn't Pretty And Perfect. You Can't Put Up With Anything Less Than Lovely. You Spend Your Life Running, Avoiding, Escaping.

With My Eyes Closed, I Ask If She Knows How This Will All Turn Out. "long-term Or Short-term?" She Asks. Both. "long-term," She Says, "we're All Going To Die. Then Our Bodies Will Rot. No Surprise There. Short-term, We're Going To Live Happily Ever After." Really? "really," She Says. "so Don't Sweat It.