I think people can have a panic attack where your heart is racing, you get shakes and jitters. But you can also feel disconnected. You know what I mean? I can feel depressed.
If you listen to your own voice, unknown friends will come and seek you.
If you want to write, find your splinter. Find the thing that pierces you and won't let you go.
I love jell-o. I love the way it comes in rainbow colours, wiggles and jiggles and looks like brains.
I couldn't think of anywhere I'd rather be. In the middle.
I count Maxwell and Einstein, Eddington and Dirac, among "real" mathematicians. The great modern achievements of applied mathematics have been in relativity and quantum mechanics, and these subjects are at present at any rate, almost as "useless" as the theory of numbers.
I'm in complete remission. I'm alive and well.
I just like the idea of pills. I like to collect them but not actually take them. When I fell off my horse, I got tons of stuff: Demerol and Vicodin and Xanax and Valium and Oxycontin, which is supposed to be like heroin. And I'm quite scared to take them. I'm a control freak.
Am I not allowed to have my pride? Or is that an emotion reserved for the elite?