And He Hated Himself And

I Love Television. I Think We're In A Renaissance Of Epic Proportion In Television Now.

Waking, After All, Was An Almost Natal State. You Surfaced Without History, Then Spent The Blinks And Yawns Reassembling Your Past, Shuffling The Shards Into Chronological Order Before Fortifying Yourself For The Present.

How Many Psychiatrists Does It Take To Screw In A Lightbulb?” “i Don’t Know. How Many?” “eight.” “why?” “oh, Stop Overanalyzing It.

In Greek Tragedy, They Fall From Great Heights. In Noir, They Fall From The Curb.

This World Can Only Give Me Reminders Of What I Don't Have, Can Never Have, Didn't Have For Long Enough.