We want to want what we want to want and waste what is there for the taking. Declaim and repeat.

I do not pine after every paean to the explanatory power of mimetic desire moldering in the drafts folder of a West Coast would be hustler. I pine after the idiosyncratically generous voice of the niche-regional autodidact who tried but failed to teach himself Latin or made a point of getting through the how to code in RubyOnRails not to disrupt anything, but because conversancy in many languages is the currency that giving a fuck cashes out in. Because encompassing multitudes and gazing on the nude bathers is just how one rolls. Because minding the gap between being the person who knows that what gets measured is what matters and becoming the person who gives voice to what is zipping around one’s soul is what used to get called integrity and now just oscillates around in object-oriented ontological ether. Which may be better, in what presently passes for the long run.