Sundays tend to be a day where just I do nothing but visit people. It's kind of like trick-or-treating.

There are worse things you can do to the people you love than kill them. The regular way is just to watch the world do it. Just read the newspaper.

A couple drinks. A couple aspirin. Repeat.

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel peaceful. Not happy. Not sad. Not anxious. Not horny. Just all the higher parts of my brain closing up shop. The cerebral cortex. The cerebellum. That's where my problem is. I'm now simplifying myself. Somewhere balanced in the perfect middle between happiness and sadness. Because sponges never have a bad day.

Don’t ask me when be­cause I don’t re­mem­ber, but some­where along the way I keep for­get­ting to com­mit sui­cide.

If you ask me, most people have children just as their own enthusiasm about life begins to wane.

These days, most of the people you hear laughing are dead.