April 11, 2002
DAYS SUCH AS THESE ARE TO BE ENDURED, NOT ENJOYED. On this day, I can't argue. Some piece o' shit hocked a pool of loogeys where my boot now rests. Sad songs are ripe for overappreciation on such a day. Angel, o angel, overexposure sheds cruel light on thy limitations. I often feel as though I'm simply sweating out this life, bleeding it for what little it's worth with no hope or expectation that it'll amount to shit at day's close. I care nothing for the full-tilt suckers of this world. I don't need a sense of superiority, just water.