Seventeen Oranges

1.

There’s something eerie about the sound of dress shoes on floorboards in a quiet house.

2.

I haven’t thought about death in awhile, but it crept up on me on the drive home last night. Funny how it hollows you out while making you incredibly grateful for everything in life. Perhaps the discomfort of thinking about it is worth it for this alone.

3.

I have a new book coming out on Monday. I’ve learned it navigate this without expectation. Book releases are more often slow burns than abrupt happenings. People will read and I will continue to do whatever it is I’m doing. Still, it is exciting.

4.

The world is fucked. There is a genocide happening (and probably more than one) Free Palestine.

5.

We get so snowed under by nonsense. Until something terrible happens. And we realize that there are more important things. But this realization is short-lived. We’re back to concerning ourselves with nonsense before long, like we’re drawn to it. As if distraction is a more comfortable state than reality. I used to be angry about this, but not anymore. I’ve realized that this is just our nature.

6.

There are around seventeen oranges sitting in a fruit bowl in my parent’s house. Seventeen. And I’ve never seen anyone in that house consume an orange. So, what is the purpose of the oranges? More investigation is needed.

7.

You are who you are, and I am who I am. We’re different and that’s good. If we were all the same we’d all be thinking the same things, living the same lives. And that would be incomprehensibly dull. We should top trying to make everyone the same.

8.

Does any of this make sense?