This morning, I received an email containing a viewer’s 20 favorite quotes of mine (I turned 20 last Tuesday, so it was a gift of sorts). Call me egotistical for posting them, but I had to recognize Sarah’s remarkable gesture. Enjoy.
“A trident yanked in and out of my chest at the speed of a full-throttle Boeing 747 as I wrote that paragraph, so please know that this post isn’t one of those boring, teen-drawing, you can overcome life’s hurdles! articles with hollow optimism and a human identity forever lost in the blurred line between everybody and nobody.”
“With all of the sinister cynicism that creeps its way into our cell phones and computers—lofting insistent tidal waves of excruciating pain to our heads through hip little nitpicking criticisms of virtually everything—it’s nice to occasionally sit there and, like, relish life.”
“We’re all that flustered customer whose schedule is too busy and important for the packed Walmart—with only seven open check-out lines—that the internet is. So you’ll need to swiftly say some seriously special stuff to the flustered, impatient people around you; otherwise, you’re just background noise, as they fool with their phone, food, or baby.”
“First of all: each of you is a beautiful, unique individual—it’s an undeniable reality. On the other hand, don’t forget that in the grand scheme of things we’re nothing more than confused, yet unremittingly curious, animals, spending a few decades revolving around a massive yellow star.”
“I don’t want to pass through my years in a meaningless blur of acute culture, boring conformity, mediocre memories, flaccid attempts at looking ‘cool’ by being ‘chill’ (AKA constantly stoic and cynical), and never attempting anything special or unique, though I’ll still occasionally chill when I have the will. Also, life is too short to have animosity towards anybody.”
“Writing with poor grammar is like going to a family party without your special Substance and brushing into that parent who hasn’t seen you since you were ‘this tall’; you’ll smile and manage to hold his or her inviting gaze long enough to flush out uncomfortable small talk, but it won’t be long before one of you is off to nibble at crackers in the kitchen—or do anything less awkward.”
“If we can’t free ‘free speech’ then we’re surely doomed to immortalize the very barriers we aspire to overcome.”
“Kind of like that person on Instagram you don’t really know but whose posts you tend to ‘like’ because they do the same to you. Strange, right? But definitely a fortuitous utilitarian relationship.”
“It’s a jittery and dark and clever and twisted and unpredictable and hypnotic experience that crawls—like a computer virus—into your consciousness.”
“And she shoots highs up her veins through a needle,
Scurrying to part from the ground like a beetle;
When the chemicals recede she drops like a crate,
Withdrawals and misery—their synergy: her trait.
Not even her parents understand,
So tonight she’ll take a stand;
Jabbing the chair with her hand,
The beetle dangles above her treacherous land.”
“Miserable, lonely creatures—devoid of each other—they surrender the fight,
Using all their remaining might to lose all in their lives that is right.
Two lovely people blinded by blight, they slip away—violently—into a gentle night;
A dagger to the heart, a smite, and each falls to the floor like a wounded knight.”
“Silver Linings Playbook pitches incredible, transcendental fastballs of uncrazed craziness, uncomplicated complications, and dramatic scenes of normality. Likewise, it creates heightened moments—of anything from mental health insanity to fulfilled glory in achieving life goals—in the most banal moments.”
“Outside the six inches of your self-perceived existence, there are oceans of brains, voluminous waves of different people, infinite sinusoids of troughs and peaks within those ocean waves.”
“P.S. I often communicate with an isolated, enamored intensity that may be linked to anything from histrionic passion to polarized arrogance to comprehensive narcissism, depending on the reader. If you ever find yourself pitying me, for parading my accomplishments or voicing skewed personal opinions or whatever else that bothers you, please know that I send my most sincere condolences; it is not my intention to elevate my ego for selfish reasons—or to act like only my abstract conviction of truth is right—and consider that my principal goal is to be voraciously real. Thus, unless facing justifiable reasons, I try to avoid both modesty and pomposity. Thank you.”
“As one would thus expect, I loathe the cold minimalist writing style that many English teachers preach nowadays—it seems to depersonalize everything except for the humdrum academic trash AP English sanctifies. I don’t mind using histrionic alliteration, playing around with double entendres, and experimenting with language! Call me a rebellious millennial!”
“She is Ms. No Body, for her withered physicality is so ever-present that it’s never present;
lacking presence, she appears only as presents—packaged directly off the assembly line.
She is Ms. ‘No Body,’ for her institutionalized body is a perpetually-scrutinized drama;
sizzling pounds the way men slice pubes and slip into pubs, she dreads having ‘no body.'”
“Do you spend hours every night ‘going to bed’ but really just lying in your bed beaming at that phone, watching your sleep cycle melt away into a Dali-like cloud of abstract timelessness? I know I’m susceptible to doing this. In fact, it’s what I’m doing right now.”
“No, you chaotic fragment of my diluted thoughts that lunges for my heels and pulls me down into your churning cave of fear and sorrow, I will not succumb to your fate this time.”
“You’re not stupid background noise, and that’s why you made a blog. You’ve been trapped thinking inside a flimsy sleeve of skin your whole life, so you definitely know how special you are in so many ways. Now you just need to prove it on your blog. Show me how you want to exist as a moving, pumping breath of life whose fleeting existence is sealed in the timeless, ever-expanding vault of the internet; show me how you’re a forever warm slice of pizza whose colors and scents never fade; and show me that you want your scattered curiosity to scorch inspiration into the fingertips of readers everywhere. I don’t want the bold arrow of time to stiffen my body six feet under a tombstone that reads ‘here lies a promising man who never accomplished anything special,’ and you don’t either.”
“No single word should be used to describe one person’s myriad world of conflicting, racing, and dynamic thoughts regarding the concept of a god or an afterlife; likewise, no single word can encapsulate one’s political ideals regarding foreign policy, social issues, handling the economy, etc. These words are nothing more than labels, and labels do nothing more than divide. They rub clean white shoes into a pile of mud and watch as the whiteness fades into a bland mesh of monstrous brown—as the shoes’ uniqueness (in color, smell, and texture) is swallowed out by the mud’s oozing omnipresence; they pit you into a stereotype and define the structure and depth of your beliefs for you, and I’m done with it. Again, I don’t want to divide anymore; I’ve spent enough time barraging others with my focused laser beam of intense cynicism and I’ve continuously watched as that beam always divided—and never solved anything.”
She said in her title that I could share this if I wanted, and here are her final words. Love them.
Also, if you were wondering what this post’s cover photo is from, it’s another gift I received. Mrs. Slaughter, thank you so much for the cards and pictures (of my cats); they are absolutely perfect.
If you’d like to use my words as quotes on your blog, feel free to do so. As usual: thanks for reading and please squeeze those precious seconds of your day to like, comment, share, and follow if possible.