These days I’ve been drinking a little more, and smoking a little more, and smoking a little more, and sleeping a little more, and cursing a little more.
Don’t let em lie to ya kids, I’ve spent my days in a lazy haze and accomplished what I set out to accomplish. I have enjoyed my time, and wasted it at my will and not that of some over-powered opinionated majority. I have seen what I wanted to see and experienced what I though necessary. Life is overwhelming, don’t make it worse.
Nothing satisfies me more than satisfaction, and as nothing outside of myself delivers this sense of pleasure, I continue to pleasure myself.
Coming back from the dead and trying to start where I left off is much more difficult than I had imagined, but progress has always been slow, and results are not visible until after the aftermath.
My accomplishments are limited, and as I watch my creativity creep away with age, I wonder if this absence of inspiration is not due to my progression through time as much as it is due to my failure to stay focused.