The one plentiful herds of magazine writers would continue to be culled - by the Internet, by the recession, by the American public, who would rather watch TV or play video games or electronically inform friends that, like, 'rain sucks!' But there's no app for a bourbon buzz on a warm day in a cool, dark bar. The world will always want a drink.
Change, Sarcasm, Technology
in these shitty plastic days ...
Loss, Human Nature, Change
I don't feel like a person at all: I am something to be loaded and unloaded, like a sofa or a cuckoo clock. I am something to be tossed into a junkyard, thrown into the river, if necessary. I don't feel real anymore. I feel like I could disappear.
People, Feelings
I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way.
Children, Wild, Born
Wenn man meine Seele zeichnen könnte, wäre es irgendein wildes Gekritzel mit deutlich sichtbaren Reißzähnen.
Soul, Dark, Insecurity
People have to do awful things for money.
Money
I am not angry or sad or happy to see you. I could not give a shit. You don't even ripple.
Apathy, Indifference, Courage
They always call depression the blues, but I would have been happy to waken to a periwinkle outlook. Depression to me is urine yellow, washed out, exhausted miles of weak piss.
Depression
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