Archives for the month of: February, 2014

I crave to be held, touched,
loved, wanted, so I push you
away because I want it far
too much. That little, needy
child inside of me with 
outstretched arms and 
tearstained cheeks is
the scariest, darkest
part of me.


Sometimes, falling asleep in Santa Monica, he wondered vaguely if there might have been a larger system, a field of greater perspective. Perhaps the whole of DatAmerica possessed its own nodal points, infofaults that might be followed down to some other kind of truth, another mode of knowing, deep within the gray shoals of information. But only if there were someone there to pose the right question.

– William Gibson