For the last 400 years, in the mind of the Divine Adorateur of Jupiter there has not arisen a thought other than the deep and abiding love of the planet Jupiter. It is theorized that if he were ever to think of anything else, the great storm on the planet may cease, and none will dare prognosticate the circumstances resultant of that.
The theosophists, mathematicians, and AI algorithms who arrive in the evening will record, debate, theorize, infer and exegetize thoroughly all such data as may be discovered in the astounding flexion and ecstatic writhings; observing the round-swept motions of the Divine Adorateur of Jupiter during each star-ridden moment, they will remain until the Sun, which cannot to our understanding be adored by any mortal consciousness, will turn their faces away, and once more extend its signal, humming however mercifully, into all the innumerable corners of humankind's wondering heart.
I'm caught in that awkward transitional phase where you're too old to do gay porn but too young to sing the blues.
I work in the kitchen (where I belong).
I spend my time educating myself, thinking about history, meditating, scheming, dreaming, chilling, deconstructing, complaining about society, attending haute soirees with my extensive network of cool friends, and envisioning colored squares.
I sing and play the guitar, and it's pretty decent. I do other art, and it's probably bad.
I have entirely reasonable opinions on every topic imaginable, and some besides.
I can pull some truly magnificent espresso shots.
Once I was just sitting in the park and a little kid was walking by with his dad, and he pointed directly at me and screamed, "Daddy! Daddy! Look at that weird man!"
Jodorowski, horror, art, musicals, animation; I really enjoy old, bad cartoons.
Food: I'll eat basically whatever. Except green peppers.
I particularly like eating small, helpless creatures. Chickens, perhaps, or shrimp. It makes me feel as powerful as God. I've never eaten a rabbit, but I probably would.
I think eating meat is kind of unethical; these are sentient beings that know pain and fear. How would I feel if I got eaten? Terrible, that's how. Unless I ate myself -- then it would average out.
My individual cells.
My own death.
The historical relationship between humanity and gold.
The world's oldest living organisms.
What is the fundamental nature of reality?
How can we get rational people to understand the utility of compassion?
How can we elect leaders who are scientists and philosophers instead of lawyers, politicians and CEOs?
How can we move beyond nation-states?
What is my cat thinking right now?
What is it like to be my cat?
How can I become more like my cat?
Can I get away with naming my next cat "The Jews"?
Did God place immortal worms in Hell to torment people? Mark 9:44
"What is this guy doing?" --That's when I'm driving and the person in front of me is driving weird. I say it out loud to myself, too.
Sometimes I find that my thoughts are difficult to describe with words. They're like impressions, or complex and strange emotions -- The feelings corresponding directly to the conceptual distances existing invisibly between every element of a situation.
PT Cruisin' in my car, Bosie.
Reading through literally all of your public questions and judging you accordingly.
or nice, but secretly mean.