my utensil

in response to a casual job offer;

oh... well... you know. don't really have any ideas for a story right now. i am too wrapped up in myself. the only things i would be able to put out would be muddled shit about my somewhat unidentified problems. the possible sources of my suffering. things like that. it wouldn't be dynamic enough. it would just be preachy whiney bullshit. unless that's what you want. i think i am going to pass.

but certainly call me for dinner. maybe we can get some drinks. i have been consuming a steady stream of beers while sitting in front of my computer. only the finest brews. i cry. i piss. and. i wait for something to happen. doesn't matter what the something is. maybe a heart attack. maybe someone will call. maybe another war will start. i just check my e-mail and write comments on other people's writing. i'm just a lazy shithead. you don't want me in your work circle.