I was thinking about death, because you tend to, some nights, when you want something big to dilute all the small petty things, and I was thinking specifically about the dying part, and how it was like being born. You don’t know what’s going on and then suddenly you’re alive. You’re alive and then suddenly you don’t know what’s going on. What are these huge blacknesses flanking our slivers of life?

I had this great idea for a science fiction story where people use time as currency and would work to add minutes and hours to their lifespans. Then I found out a movie was coming out with the exact same premise! With Justin Timberlake! Goddamn it, I’ve been scooped. THEN I found out Harlan Ellison was suing the movie for ripping off his short story with the same premise, which he wrote in 19 effing 65. GODDAMN IT.