"It's possible to see life as two pairs of footsteps in the sand. Sometimes, they converge and sometimes they diverge."
One of my cousins is in the process of applying to Emerson, and we've been having an ongoing discussion about passion and control. To do anything well, one has to have acquired a control of the medium; in writing, this usually means writing well in various styles other than one's default. But great art is not well-practiced, it is inspired. In every great work, Passion breathes.

At work, we were talking and I mentioned how I hate talking at work. Yes, it's good for brainstorming, but it has major limitations: there's no document trail (which provides details and helps historical analysis); rhetoric wins spoken arguments, not rationality; conversation is a quick medium which outpaces many intellects, effectively silencing their voices; finally, people say things they would be ashamed to put on paper. Conversation is quick and dirty, which is sometimes useful, but not always.

At a New Year's party, I got asked what it was like to be the only sober person in the room. I just smiled. It's been a while since I've had a reason to drink. But that night was rougher than most; I can talk about Passion, but it's been a while since I've tasted it. For slaking's sake, I've been drinking from the deep well at http://www.suicidegirls.com, where one can find cute, intelligent (good) girls who all want to show the world how bitchy (annoying) they are (Flux, Alice, especially). Girls with dyed hair (like the wigged Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation) fill my imagination like no other. This appears to me to be the most persuasive argument for weekend flings, as I couldn't live with these girls unless I was retired and didn't give a damn.

On a un-related note, how many times will the average priest have sex during his lifetime (here on Earth ;)?