He suddenly recalled from Plato’s Symposium: people were hermaphrodites until God split then in two, and now all the halves wander the world over seeking one another. Love is the longing for the half of ourselves we have lost.

She was experiencing the same odd happiness and odd sadness as then. The sadness meant: we are at the last station. The happiness meant: we are together.

For how can we condemn something that is ephemeral, in transit? In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine.

m

pizza night at home tonight with our crew. texas representin’.

m

just listen

m

I never realized before that freeways come to an end; they just flow back into real streets like nothing ever happened, like you were never going 80 at 4 AM next to a 16-wheeler, thinking about your ex. The glow of movies on big screens? This entire city is basking in that glow. That glow can carry you home over and under passes and through seemingly endless ritzy and rickety neighborhoods. The hills — Silver Lake, Hollywood, whatever all those other ones are — they wink at you. They glitter and glint and make you feel like you’re in on the joke; that you’re living in a feature film.

more on Thought Catalog

m

Nicole’s been sick since January. I’ve been sick 4 or 5 times since moving here.  So, we’re finally on antibiotics and on our way to recovering. Probably should not have gone out last night, but it was Christian’s birthday and I made red velvet cupcakes. And I scored 300 in skee ball, beating all the bearded fools left and right.

Today: rest. And cleaning. And more rest.

m