whiskeyfightpit

Reasons to quit work and join jesuit monk colony are stacking up like wooden palets in a warehouse. Some 5 year old kid pissed his pants in my store. I had to fight a junkie bitch twice. Some seemingly normal guy spends his days in AA with the schizophrenic painter who's work adorns the walls of my store. Could the human race be decaying? What little sense of humanity and compassion I had for the impoverished has long gone. My contempt for them is equaled to those men in overpriced suits making the daily bad decisions that govern our lives. I need some kind of grounded reality. Every scene or vision that crosses my path is a giant test to see if I will either shake my head in disgust or just simply laugh hysterically. I need to spend an evening with one of these Suicide Girls. I have a feeling that the Suicide Girls aren't into Kid Rock, Eminem, and Leprosy. That's a good thing. Michael Gira is right. Work is humiliation.