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high school mystics in a basement with a bong

humans thinking they are inside themselves is understandable, containment is everywhere, cell components inside cell components inside cells forming boundaries containing other cells that do other things containing other things, and so on – so a human would ask, "why wouldn’t I be inside me?"

life is life, for one reason because it is moving – how can life be still? If life was a statue it’d be dead, it wouldn’t be life

poem stuff: the baggage of having archetypes in your household. The warrior’s grandmother moves in with him, cooks foul smelling cabbage stuff, your king and his relatives who are always hogging the bathroom, the creative’s drunk friends, etc –

actor’s coaching in reverse: ‘busting’ affectations

No, I didn’t say I was officially here… I said I was officially here-ha-ha.

Big difference.
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