It is not every day that we are needed.
Alan had not slept. A circus of worries kept his mind darting all night long, taking in the action. By the end it was almost funny. When the sun broke over the sea, his face heavy on the pillow, he’d chuckled to himself. Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn.
I really just want to be this warm yellow light that pours over everyone that I love.
Suddenly Alan had the same feeling he had while watching a hypnotist or magician - that there were people in the world for whom the world and its people were subjects on which to cast spells.
The meaning of life was an elusive seam of water hundreds of feet below the surface, and he would periodically drop a bucket down the well, fill it, bring it up and drink from it. But this did not sustain him for long.
-I’m a student.
-A student of life! Yousef said, then laughed. No, I’m fucking with you. Business, marketing. That kind of thing. I have no idea why.
After a moment, he closed the hood, got in again, and started the car. It coughed awake, sounding like the past.
Quote with 5 notes
For all its apolitical, joyful, empty headed zaniness and experimentation, Community is a passionately humanitarian show. Its only religious and political point of view is that all people are good people, and while we often play the roles of villains and stereotypes to each other, it is always an illusion, shattered quickly by the briefest moment of honest connection.
Celibacy would lead straight to boredom and the aimless waiting that is a precondition of renewed passion for life.
We’re all going to die soon enough, Virgil. There’s no reason to wish for death.
The fact that we all abide depression does not lessen the pain of the lonely sufferer lost among raucous celebrants.
…in this or any family certain moods and states of mind will be dominant and chronic to the extent that they are no longer perceivable as mood, but as routine personality traits, shared attributes — those supervening aspects of character that, because supervening, come to signify membership in the family circle. The collective persona of this family could be reasonably described as frantic, romantic, lethargic, sarcastic, fearful, frustrated, tipsy, pugnacious, unchaste, heartless, dog-eat-dog, borderline narcissistic, nervously narrow-minded, and more or less resigned to despair although occasionally festive when inebriated.
Sometimes I think I’ve figured out some order in the universe, but then I find myself in Florida, swamped by incongruity and paradox, and I have to start all over again.
I speak to these people, and I speak to you because I cannot help it. It gives me strength, almost unbelievable strength, to know that you are there. I covet your eyes, your ears, the collapsible space between us. How blessed are we to have each other? I am alive and you are alive so we must fill the air with our words. I will fill today, tomorrow, every day until I am taken back to God. I will tell stories to people who will listen and to people who don’t want to listen, to people who seek me out and to those who run. All the while I will know that you are there. How can I pretend that you do not exist? It would be almost as impossible as pretending that I do not exist.
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