It’s too cold and the heater doesn’t work. There’s just shit everywhere, junk mail. The phone keeps vibrating. There are people I need to get back to but I forget what it was even about. Money or fucking. There’s money I’m not going to get and fucking I’m not going to do. There’s the letter from California Unemployment that looked like it was gonna be a check but is just telling you to register for CALJOBS, their online resume program that doesn’t let you use punctuation. Some of my skills require parentheticals. But who cares, no one’s looking.
The fish tank is dirty. I am an abusive pet owner. Still, these Julidochromis Regani are pretty fuckin tough. Tank bred fish, not these hothouse flowers straight out of Lake Tanganyika. Fuck your dirty water, pussy, they say. Go ahead and piss in the tank, I’ll laugh at it. When I have a kid he’ll probably choke on a bottle cap or something. Drink Drano. I’ll be distracted jerking off.
I want to make chicken but I don’t want to wash the pan required to make chicken. I want to jerk off but it’s too cold to take out my dick. I have no fucking idea if there will be rent money in my bank account. I haven’t been keeping track. Typing the “ba” and having firefox autocomplete “–nkofamerica.com” is too much labor. Plus, I don’t want to know. Bankofamerica.com is just gonna be a big screen that says yeah, you bought cocaine with your last sixty bucks, you fucking idiot; hope you like camping. Now cough up our fucking fees.
There’s a helicopter circling. My bed smells like piss. I broke my tongue with drugs and now everything tastes like bananas.
On the plus side, my mom made cupcakes.