apocalypse

When I cry - when I let myself cry - that's who I cry for. I don't cry for myself. I cry for the Cassie that's gone.And I wonder what that Cassie would think of me.The Cassie who kills.

The last to fall were the buildings, distant and solemn, the gravestones for an entire world.

I love my virginity to the apocalypse.

I sat in the dark and thought: There__ no big apocalypse. Just an endless procession of little ones.

We wrap up our violent and mysterious world in a pretense of understanding. We paper over the voids of our comprehension with science and religion, and make believe that order has been imposed. And, for the most of it, the fiction works. We skim across the surfaces, heedless of the depths below. Dragonflies flitting over a lake, miles deep, pursuing erratic paths to pointless ends. Until that moment when something from the cold unknown reaches up to take us.The biggest lies we save for ourselves. We play a game in which we are gods, in which we make choices, and the current follows in our wake. We pretend a separation from the wild. Pretend that a man__ control runs deep, that civilization is more than a veneer, that reason will be our companion in dark places.

Knowlede is power and Absolute Knowledge is Absolute Power or the Power of Truth, which is constantly shaping events and circumstances to reveal the errors in our beliefs.

It is said that there exist parallel worlds in which all other possible realities occur. Every decision we could ever make exists as a unique reality in which that decision is made. Of course you can imagine that the possibilities existing for any single person are immense. But what about the facts? What really happens. Since this really depends on others, what you get is... it. Limited. It. This is it.

Mark Spitz had met plenty of the divine-retribution folks over the months. This was their moment; they were umbrella salesmen standing outside a subway entrance in a downpour. The human race deserved the plague, we brought it on ourselves for poisoning the planet, for the Death of God, the calculated brutalities of the global economic system, for driving primordial species to extinction: the entire collapse of values as evidenced by everything from nuclear fission to reality television to alternate side of the street parking. Mark Spitz could only endure these harangues for a minute or two before he split. It was boring.The plague was the plague. You were wearing galoshes, or you weren't.

I think I remember what love was like before. There were complex emotional and biological factors. We had elaborate tests to pass, connections to forge, ups and downs and tears and whirlwinds. It was an ordeal, an exercise in agony, but it was alive. The new love is simpler. Easier. But small.

I promise not to hurt you, unless you try to take my shit. Then I'll twist your head off and hide it in a bush somewhere.

If you can cut the head off of this broom-goober with that sword, then I'll believe you can gank zombies with it.

People could say a lot of negative things about the apocalypse, but there was no arguing the air quality in Los Angeles had really improved.

You can't take highways during the apocalypse, because they'll be packed with panicky people.

[Therapist and friend, with a voice like Raul Julia during his Gomez Adam__ days] Rudy studied my face, __ have a two o__lock open on Tuesday.__ sighed, __eah, ok. Tuesday at two.__e nodded, pleased. __ring Starbucks.___ure, what do you want?___y usual. Iced half-caf ristretto quad grade two-pump raspberry two percent no whip light ice with caramel drizzle three-and-a-half-pump white mocha.___s any of that actually coffee?___ore or less.___nd you think I__ damaged _

Are you going to rape me at any point or anything?" I just figured it was good to get things out in the open, get myself in the right headspace. He whipped his head around and looked at me like I'd just insulted his grandmother. "The fuck? No, I'm not." He gave me the squint side-long. "Are you going to rape me?

Oh, you're a picky sort, huh?" He laughed. "That takes balls, being choosy at a time like this.

I__ once again see that bob of blonde hair back on my pillow, that pink hot smile beaming toward me as I heroically win her heart in some kind of Count of Monte Cristo or Great Gatsby-esque gesture_ you know minus the long imprisonment or swimming pool death!

He grumbles incoherently, opens the window a fraction and continues to smoke away. It__ like every time Sidney Drake enters a new location he has to readjust the atmosphere, akin to one of those sci-fi shows where they oxygenate the planet, but for my dad it__ in a suffocating reverse. He replaces the clean wholesome air with a non-stop puff of toxic poison.