Cold morning, thinking about Rimbaud.

Lovely cloud of darkness settling in my brain, making me feel a lot better about things, harsh, clear, active. Lots of things to fix. Lots of things to destroy.

People always seem to want to talk others into making the world into something or other, prefer to just try & do it, neither works, I think my way's more fun, people are mostly pretty stupid, talking with them a big drag.

On with the flashing lights & streams of data, here's to love.