I'm hungry and thirsty and full of dead cliches and tired allusions. I'm full up on the formulae for success (or at least attention), controversy, drugs, and sex, and then the formulae for those--throw in the words, penis, vagina, jesus, satan, abortion, vodka, whiskey, cunt cunt cunt. I can't be the next Hunter S. Thompson because the seventies are dead and drugs and dirty things are no longer new news, nobody wants uppers, everybody wants downers. This is the age of cynicism, paralysis, and psychoanalysis, the time for LSD is dead and gone and now we want Viagra, Vicodin and Prozac. The optimism and king of the world glory you once shared in a whiskey glass is now pathetic, for hello, 1984 has come and gone, and everything is about Precision, Accuracy, Efficacy, Money. Nobody wants to go to grad school anymore, not unless it's for money. I sure as hell don't. What the hell good is knowledge going to get me? I don't want knowledge, I want acknowledgement. Look at me. Look at me. I don't care if I am brilliant or not, as long as I APPEAR it, and you read me in the columns and I'm famous and you light my goddamn cigarette and do my silks and wipe my nose. Because in this big fat world of do or die, I want success and I'll do what it takes to get there. I'm running out of blogs because I'm running out of outlets...I'm scrounging and itching, and I'm going to get every fucking second of this down on record. Yes, so I'll remember it, yes, so I'll learn from it, and yes, so one day with mauled truths (because, I am learning, the less you say the better, for I have always said too much--and quite frequently the prettier (or dirtier) lie is much more appealing than its accompanying, boring old truth...in literature or otherwise)...anyway, one day, with mauled truths, possibly financial gain. And by then it won't matter if I remember what I really did or if I really kissed him or if I forgot the whole rest of the night, because I'll be knee deep in success and Gucci suits (name dropping, after all, equals controversy, or perhaps advertisement, or perhaps reader familiarity and therefore his ability to relate)...and no doubt, I'll be hungrier and thirstier and unhappier than ever before