Quotes from Jeremy Robert Johnson

collected promotional mugs for all eight of the banks which collapsed beneath me. I lined them up in each new cubicle like heads on poles outside of a cannibal village. My resume was a graveyard of once powerful institutions.

The bodies of a man and his dog fused together, skin and fur melded. Nobody wanted to die alone.

Once I catch a serious FUCK IT wave, I ride that thing right up to the sand. "Sand" might be a loose metaphor for "point where I'm almost dead and filled with the kind of regret you have to actively forget in order to continue on as a human being.

And his dick looks like a hot dog that got hit with a sledgehammer and sewn back together by a blind lady." "Thanks, Port." "You're welcome, D.

Conspiracy contagion thrived on possibility and coincidence as vectors.

Billion dollar bonuses turned rules into polite suggestions.

Is that where we're at? Finding joy in the prospect of slightly diminished atrocities?

He's just a guy who got caught up in a bad habit and made a few mistakes at work." "He's

This is a jury of your peers. They watch the same TV movies. They belong to Oprah's Book Club. You can take any monster, slap a bad dad into his past, and all of a sudden he's just another lost soul, lashing out. And you were the poor lady that got in the way. They'll argue you lacked compassion. You were the one who took things too far.

Ideas are the finery we wrap our brains in, to hide the reptile core that we can't escape. The reptile brain, Ron, is a vestige of the past from which we can't seem to slip loose. We chug-chug-chug toward the future, and the world of ideas grows exponentially, but we are still base creatures at times. We all have those sad, tragic moments where we neglect thought and act on old, withered snippets of instinct.

Every morning when you wake up, I want you to make two promises to yourself. One, you'll do your best to stay healthy and keep living. Two, you'll be as good as you can to others and yourself.' And that's it.

You can tell when they're coming for you if you study their faces.

Took to typing as quickly and loudly as possible and yelling, "I'm in!" when accessing basic programs. Made me feel like a hacker.

Don't worry. These cowboys are all in line. Nice, law-abiding batch here, only want to help you reach your dreams. They're nothing like that last group who rolled through town with branding irons and rape-trusses and shotguns. These are the good guys.

Somewhere, floating in a muddled abstraction beyond your existence as a generally good person, are the Externalities. Fuck 'em and God Bless 'em.

But my social circle had dwindled. Hell, all I had was a social dot—just me on a one man continuum.

One man against a corrupt system and I knew I could win! And Hindsight would like to point out I wasn't even on the really hard drugs yet. I'd

Loneliness is a hell of a drug. A week prior I'd misted up when a grocery clerk told me, "Take care.

She ran her hands across the bark, imagining herself at the foot of some planet-traversing colossus who was standing still to allow her up for a visit.

Is that where we're at? Finding joy in the prospect of slightly diminished atrocities?

My guests never predicted nuclear boiling annihilation, otherwise they surely would have posed in more pretty-making fashions, chasing the ever-present ambition to be the most becoming of the dead.

We raided the lab. Unsure of exactly what the medical needs of a profane aberration might be

Icarus flew too close to the sun, but at least he flew.

Exactly how long can you stand on a street corner showing two drug dealers your scar-tissue-induced radical penis curvature? The answer is twelve seconds. After that it feels weird.