Naked Lunch
Rear Window
Night of the Iguana
I watched three movies today (and it's only 8:15), reminds me of being alone and 22. Conspiratorial insect anuses, statutory rape, and Rum Coco's. Should I feel like a fat shiftless insect, a stain on the couch? Should I masturbate again? Should I have a drink?
I can't be accused of hating life, ever since unemployment kicked in. This is turning in to a month-long staycation. The one big blip is the horned shoulder cherub constantly transmitting little electric whispers, "A family member or friend has it."
It's not dysentery, it's not even amoebic.
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