Yesterday, as I fell on my cramped calf, from my bicycle onto stiff grass, I realized that while no one may hear you laugh in agony, it still hurts, and it is still funny.

Today, on coffee, going deaf, I thought I was Booker T., until I woke the fuck up, and realized what a shambolic mess it all was. Oh well, so I went back to sleep.

Now awake, I wonder again, if by some arcane metaphysical rule, an individual can only exist as long as they're on the mind of at least one other on Earth; would it be more comforting, as I sit empty-headed under the last moments of the sun, to believe that I was lucky to be empty-headed as I was, because I materially existed only in commemoration of an outside, considerate thought. That's probably why people turn to religion; you get a touch of selfishness, and ample humiliation, all in the same package as 'comfort'. Indebtedness produces guidance. Me, short of that kind of indebtedness, I don't drink and write incomplete music inspired by incomplete ideas and pretend I'm in love. I also like to hang out with friends and go to shows, to trade, compare, and theorize on other forms of guidance. I exaggerate my pathos semi-anonymously, something I don't fully understand (perhaps it's supposed to represent my "essential" self, although I really don't believe in that sort of thing). I think I enjoy all of it, but the fact that it's self-conscious makes me suspicious.

I wonder, is there a way to appreciate yourself, without it simply rotating into egoism or narcissicism? A sort of grand egalitarianism, in which you're included equally? The secondary definition of "appreciate" is 'to understand (a situation) fully; recognize the full implications of.' That might work -- to not center your interests around yourself, but rather allow your actions to be fulfilling in themselves, i.e. "I am doing this, and therefore it means I care about it, and, as a force, it will be recognized, among all others." Hm! We'll see. It's almost time to go to a show.