Christ, I hate thinking about time. When I do, I realize that I've achieved virtually nothing in the past year and a half. I guess this is what being an adult is to 99.6% of the world.

Fuck it. I'm gonna go write and imbibe something alcoholic. By which I mean I'm going to kidnap some chump from an after-hours joint, liquefy him, and serve him on the rocks, garnished with lime and Tabasco sauce.