Thursday, July 24, 2008

Tragedy affords us the illusion that we’re being ultra honest with ourselves; someone close dies, and immediately, we transform into some sort of hybrid between a philosopher, super hero, and  poet.  We compose virtual tomes of universal and undeniable truth.  We even seek to martyr  ourselves on the altar of understanding and compassion.  But we’re assholes, aware as we are of all the inherent glory in it.  

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