Don’t think I don’t take notice of the summer blossoms as they fall
    I do, and as worn, yellow Chucks crush the cripled pink of each blush,
                I count.

One,
    let’s try to be better human beings.

Two,
    let’s not fear when things change on us.

Three,
    you should never underestimate mortality.

Four,
    someday, you will not have to count anymore.
       someday, you will just walk, like normal people.
          this is the day you should fear.

God created Mormons. And when He made them, He gave them incredibly handsome features, because He thought Himself incredibly handsome. And He bestowed upon them The Crisp White Shirts of Heaven and the Pressed Black Slacks With Silk Lining of the Angel Gabriel, as well as the So Shiny They Could Be Tap Shoes which He borrowed from Jesus.

And He saw it, and it was good.

The next time I run into the Mormons, I’m going to talk frankly to them and say, “Look, I think your religion is great but I don’t think it’s for me honestly. If you can prove me wrong, that your God would accept my homosexuality, pre-marrital sex, and belief in some kind of reincarnation and karma, then please come to my apartment and we’ll chat over coffee. Otherwise, you can just give me your picture of Jesus (again) and try a different soul.”

Honestly though, they’re all so, so handsome.

Am I the only person in the world who felt a little…lost after reading Saddam was hanged? I mean, I don’t support him, I think he was a tyrant, and he killed a lot of people, hurt a whole country for his deeds. Yet… I can’t bring myself to be happy he’s dead. How can you be happy someone died?

Sometimes when I think about the fact that someone has just died, I get a strange feeling in my throat, like I can feel them dying and be dying with them. We’re all dying, I know, day by day, but I can feel it. It makes me nauseous and scared. I’m frightened of my own end, of the moment when I’ll be facing whatever the future plan for my death is…

I felt so sad as I thought about him walking up to the noose, having someone fit it around his throat, letting him hang there as he twitched and died.

It’s all over at that moment, and I wonder if he worried about his family, about friends, about loved ones, about regrets, about publicity, about anything. What do you think about just before you die?

Adriann and I recently saw Love at the Mirage in Vegas, and it’s got me thinking about the Beatles, how the two who were the most talented and inspirational are dead and the two who live on produce some meaningful things but mostly just go on being bland and ordinary. John Lennon would have done beautiful, incredible things. George Harrison did do beautiful, incredible things.

Harrison once said: “Everything else can wait, but the search for God cannot.“