Diary

It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.

We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.

Just for the record, the weather today is calm and sunny, but the air is full of bullshit.

All the effort in the world won't matter if you're not inspired.

Just for the record, the weather today is partly suspicious with chances of betrayal.

Just for the record, the weather today is bitter with occasional fits of jealous rage.

You're always haunted by the idea you're wasting your life.

your handwriting. the way you walk. which china pattern you choose. it's all giving you away. everything you do shows your hand. everything is a self portrait. everything is a diary.

Just for the record, she still loves you. She wouldn't bother to torture you if she didn't.

Leonardo's Mona Lisa is just a thousand thousand smears of paint. Michelangelo's David is just a million hits with a hammer. We're all of us a million bits put together the right way.

Everything is a self-portrait. A diary. Your whole drug history’s in a strand of your hair. Your fingernails. The forensic details. The lining of your stomach is a document. The calluses on your hand tell all your secrets. Your teeth give you away. Your accent. The wrinkles around your mouth and eyes. Everything you do shows your hand.

For the record, knowing when people are only pretending to like you isn't such a great skill to have.

You have endless ways you can commit suicide without dying dying.

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.

Maybe it's just a daughter's job to piss off her mother.

There is nothing special in the world. nothing magic. just physics.

What you don't understand you can make mean anything.

The truth is, wherever you choose to be, it's the wrong place.

The weather today is partly angry, leading to resignation and ultimatums.

Stanislavski was right, you can find fresh pain every time you discover what you pretty much already know.

How you're still always trapped. How your head is the cave, your eyes the cave mouth. How you live inside your head and only see what you want. How you only watch the shadows and make up your own meaning.

If you're not drunk and half naked by this point, you're not paying attention.

Of all the priceless objects left behind, this is what we rescue. These artifacts. Memory cues. Useless souvenirs. Nothing you could auction. The scars left from happiness.

Just for the record, being smeared with shit and naked in the wilderness, spattered with pink vomit, this does not necessarily make you a real artist.

If emotion can create a physical action, then duplicating the physical action can re-create the emotion.

According to Plato, we don't learn anything. Our soul has lived so many lives that we know everything. Teachers and education can only remind us of what we already know.

Any time some well-meaning person forces you to demonstrate you have no talent and rubs your nose in the fact you're a failure at the only dream you ever had, take another drink.

You'll need to suffer to make any real art.