every once in awhile there will be a lapse, or an errant moment in which my social skills will all but fly away, leaving me helplessly sour and purposefully terrible, and I have no tolerance or patience for anything human. everyone wants to be famous, loved, addled and adored, but not for any fabulous accomplishment, hard work, being 'in the know' with ayn rand, but simply for what's on the inside, that part of you that's irresistable just lying on the couch in your underwear eating chips. remember when gulliver was stuck with the brobdignagians and was struck by how hideous and putrid people are? well, yes, I do, christian, thanks for asking. you're welcome, delusional psychosis. well, when these times strike me, I either invite sherlock holmes over and shoot up with him, or I take a quiet, secret inventory of my surroundings and calculate to myself how far and fast I could get away, and how I could start giving away my pets in an innocuous and not at all suspicious manner, and how fun it will be when I'm living in the rainforest and having secret nature powers.

the most vivid memory I have with my mother was the day that carl sagan died. he was my favorite author back then and partly responsible for my abandonment of religion, and my mother consoled me when I found out, wiped away my tears, and took me to get some ice cream. on the way we talked about his frequent use of marijuana. I think I was fourteen at the time and had never dreamt of doing anything illegal, and I said to my mom 'I was always under the impression that marijuana was so bad, but I can't really think that anymore when I know that my idol did it all the time.' my mom was thoughtful for a second and said, 'it's strange, but it seems like a lot of very respectable people do it.' my mother was always more open-minded then I ever gave her credit for, and I'm sorry that I took her for granted so much.

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