There's this thing I love to do. Ingest substances and write. Before typing, i'd become bothered by messy writing and repetitiveness. These days, i ignore all sense and make it public. Public to who? To you. I guess if we can't drink it up, together, after a long day at work, or at the hospital, or wherever the long day takes us, at least there's lonely, drunken writing on a Thursday night. There are lists to be made, and an endless source of stupidity and sloppiness. When i think about some people, i feel ashamed in comparison. They do things like work or ceaseless study, making a difference, improving their situation in life, making friends, making love. Sometimes i try those things, but they confuse me. So whatcha gonna do with all that junk? All that junk inside yr trunk?
"This is the best day of my life"--austrian Michael Jackson fan---June 14, 2005
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