paralyzing depression. 

i keep thinking, "let me show you how a real man endures paralyzing depression."  

if anyone has tried to contact me via my shitty prepaid phone, i don't have it anymore.  i threw it against the ground the other day. 

i'm unable to get far in life because i can't make small talk and i don't positively encourage people.  also, i look mean.

also, fuck logan square.

had a thought about suicide the other day.  it was something like, "suicide is only bad ass if you live a perfect life.  if you live a shitty life, it's more bad ass to expose yourself to that shittiness until you die naturally."

i'm writing this at a dunkin donuts where you have to get buzzed in to the bathroom.

i'm willing to fight anyone at my readings from now on.  i'm in good shape.  i have a "six pack."

i just imagined myself grabbing chicago by the edge like a rug and flipping it downward, hard, to get the "dust" off it.

i watched "the last great heavyweight fight" the other day.  it's lamon brewster vs serhei liahkovich.  i read an interview with brewster, and he said in the first round, his left retina came off and "everything looked like a painting" for the rest of the fight.  then i watched nigel benn vs gerald mc clellan.  at the end of the fight, mc clellan takes a knee and gives up, then goes to his corner and collapses and he goes into a coma for eleven days then wakes up blind and mostly deaf.  i felt really sad watching the fight when he takes a knee and just stares at the canvas, blinking.