im overwhelmingly consumed by the secret project. i havent ubered in months and my bank account shows.
the xbi says you can do this little job for us, you know, and i say i know.
i went to get this thing removed from my head. many people have told me its a transmitter.
it aint no transmitter. i dont think. but it’s gone now. the bleedings stopped.
the pretty girl made me oatmeal this morning before i left.
is there anything more a man could want?
the sun is warm, the air is less smokey.
i go to the mailbox at noon to see if the check has arrived.
this is no way to live.
but im obsessed with this project.
it must be great.
im not great.