Maybe we’re all just pretending we’re in love. That we couldn’t possibly love another human being as much as we love ourselves? That is narcissism, at the very core. Maybe we never outgrow it.

We all want the dramas of our lives to mean something. We want to emerge from our failed marriages, wiser for the experience, only to find another partner, just as crazy or crazier, than the one we left. Chalk that one up to experience, too.

I’m tired, dehydrated, too. There is a wash going plus clothes in the dryer. I could go upstairs and prepare for the next loads.

I could watch news, rather than porn. But why? Neither genre deals with reality. It’s as if Goebbels is looking over the shoulder of the camera man and the editor in both, giving us dreams to believe in.

I think about that flu shot I got today and the ice cream bars I bought afterwards. I made at least one wise decision between the two. Choose for yourself the wiser of them