BIBLE OF NONE OF THE ABOVE

"NOBODY LIKES YOU EVERYONE LEFT YOU THEY'RE ALL OUT WITHOUT YOU HAVING FUN"

"You get sad, Harry. *Too* sad. People can't get that sad. It's impossible to watch...
Other people get sad too, but not like you, you stay down for too long -- and if you're not down, you're up, running around asking questions. Millions of questions...
In conclusion -- you're ill. You're an old, insane man. And you have to be in hell until the end of your life. And I have to go..."

"She's all alone again, wiping the tears from her eyes. Some days he feels like dying. She gets so sick of crying. She sees a mirror of herself and admits she wants to sell to anyone willing to buy. He steals an image in her kiss from her hearts apocalypse from the one called Whatsername."

"Something beautiful is going to happen... 00.00001% of communism has been built... Fire up the big communism builder. Gargantuan communism... Something beautiful is going to happen."

Elysium exists but not for us. Have faith in the human project. Maintain belief in a better world.

"She's an extraordinary girl, in an ordinary world, and she can't seem to get away."
"Do it for Her." Hoffmanian, Innocentic Her. "Do it for Revachol."
"She's holding on My heart like a hand grenade"

"Nothing will happen until you swing the bat"
"Maybe when the time comes you won't swing at all"

"I'M THE PATRON SAINT OF THE DENIAL WITH AN ANGEL FACE AND TASTE FOR SUICIDAL"

"cigarettes and ramen and a little bag of dope~"

We're gonna "crack 20 cases a day", that's right. Something beautiful is going to happen. Never give in. Do not become the Deserter. Let them put you in your place. Let it happen but never give in. Please call me only if you are coming home.



"Will we ever see each other again?"
"I won't see you but you will see me."
"How can that be?"
"Oh, Harry, this is a dream, can't you see? I'm already in Mirova by now. Who knows how long ago this happened?" She looks around. "A year, two, *five* years ago?"
"How will I see you *again* then?"

"Right here. Tomorrow night. Once this dream starts happening it keeps happening -- three times a week. At least. And Harry, it really, really looks like it's started *happening* again. There's the video rental... I'm suffocatingly beautiful. And young. And I smell of tutti frutti chewing gum -- like I did that time when I asked you for forgiveness. After leaving you the first time, so long ago...



See you tomorrow."

I'm sending you a letter, Monika. I want you to know that I still think about you. You're not here. I took those pills and now you're gone, and there's nothing left for me to believe in. I will never be an astronaut. I will not be the Jesus of Suburbia. I will never save those 80 damned souls. I know this disease is terminal. I know it will be the end, whether it poisons me with metal or whether I get "intolerably sad" again. The only way to load the dice is to keep on rolling. The fact is, if I die, if they all die, when we leave nothing but carbon in the atmosphere in our wake, very few people will miss us. If anyone else is reading this thing I write to you, they're one of the few. That's okay. Maybe you, 18 year old girl, were never meant to be the savior of humanity. Maybe you fucked up, and you're not the Innocentic. Maybe that was too much of me to ask of myself. Maybe it's okay if my heart explodes, and this zombie I call you can finally let go. I can swing my own guitar this time. I'll do it without you. I think maybe my hope doesn't have to be in the Promised Days of yesteryear. I told you, (me) that I'd never let go. I'm so sorry for doing this to you. I'm ready for this dream to end. Can I keep the ring? Please let me go.