Rock Bottom Maxims

Fun seems foreign.
New York makes you evil.
“Who gives a fucking shit about anything?” Repeat thrice daily.
You were designed to be impotent.
Any accomplishment was manipulation.
Every hour of the day feels insomniaic.
No posture is comfortable, not even hunched.
Bartelby yourself.
Fantasize about buying a gun and commiting a realtor genocide.
Starving and saving are one and the same. The same applies to brain fog and brainstorm.
All means of digital expression must be broken: phone, camera, laptop, computer. You had nothing to say anyway.
Do not lean on me.

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