Some sort of god is making itself visible to you tonight. You’re freezing and everything in life is shaping up to be a perfectly engineered mess and yet you’re happier than you’ve ever been. It’s so thrilling to be happy alone- sober and control of your body, answering to no one.

You could get addicted to this. You’re making art that means something; listening to rock music and climbing through fountains, burying your face in the dewy grass of the park and thinking of no one else. This phenomenon can hardly be put into words but it is sure worth a try, my ******* god. You were so happy earlier that you wrapped your palms around a small decorative evergreen tree outside an office building and hugged it, breathing in its wintry scent and not giving a **** who was watching or thinking.

****!! A profane word is no less profane than the atrocity of allowing the true profanities of society and the psyche to go unaddressed. You stand inside this concrete empire, watching the world revolve.