I make mistakes like the glory of the dawn receding into the fading memories of the newly dead. Sometimes, these are fishes who wear the blueprints of exciting new sportscars. Sometimes, they are hardened babies, and have to be constantly surrounded in crickets. I make successes as if a drowning man were a dice roll, as if a bank robbery were a marriage. I make accidents because the nature of accidents gets me made to begin with. Like the fury of the absolutions that arise in the wake of crisis and disaster. I make mistakes.