Adding to the stream, new life, the continued narrative.
No judgments, no biases, what's the point of war? what's the point of vigilantism? The continued strife. The continued existence. Everything is writing. Writing is everything.
Living the life I want to live, with Susan Sontag by my side, and Joan Didion, if you please. I wouldn't mind. But it's all up to fate, whether that small little thing joins my cause in the cosmos.
"What sign am I?" asks the tall man with the yellow hat on his head.
"I don't know." I respond. "A Libra?"
I don't generally know these things, but once somebody tells me their sign then my mind starts making all sorts of associations.
"A Leo." he says.
"Figures." I reply, picturing my old friend Jack, making correlations.
"You two even look alike." I say.
"Who?" he replies.
"You and Jack."
"Nevermind." I say.