You might think it’s a waste of time looking for ways to love the world but it’s the same amount I’d spend on the poopy stuff and I’m happier. So I win. I wish this was true, that I didn’t spend so much time on so much shit, but I do. And so far? It’s never made me happy. It’s never made my mind loose and limber. It’s only rarely contributed to creative lightning. The obvious question is why do it?